The Final Twist
by Kyootulu
Summary: The biggest, most trying revelations are left until the near end, and their resolutions might only be found in the shadows, where darkness taints even the noblest of intentions. Takes place after the events in "The Art of Losing."
1. Chapter 1: Late Night Apprehensions

**Chapter 1: Late Night Apprehensions**

"We need to talk."

I couldn't blame Elissa for saying those words, really. She didn't know any better. As far as I could tell from what she has mentioned to me before, she never had any lovers before me, never held an amorous interest in anyone else. She spent her girlhood in Highever causing trouble, dodging marriage, rebuffing her place as Bryce Cousland's youngest as she sought her own adventures (and therefore causing more trouble when none of them worked out). Save for the few skirmishes that her father or her older brother allowed her to participate in, she did her best to live a life unfettered. That, to her, certainly meant no attachments, especially not ones that led to the altar.

Therefore, with such little experience with men, Elissa never learned a valuable lesson about them, and that was this:

What just left her lips were four words a man never, ever wants to hear. Especially coming from a woman said man was in a relationship with.

"I saw Morrigan waiting outside of your room, earlier," I pointed out. "What did she have to say?"

Something curdled at the pit of my stomach as I turned away from my bed and faced her, wondering if this had anything to do with the worrisome revelations Riordan gifted us around an hour or so ago. Our conversation with him had been the most important one we've had since arriving in Redcliffe to rendezvous with our army, so it was a natural assumption on my part that whatever she had to tell me (and, by the look on her face, tell me now) had something to do with that. I'm not that dumb, hopefully.

When she said nothing, still, I tried another tact. "Is this what I get for being your second-in-command?" I asked breezily, mouth quirking upwards in a smirk. "I get the bad news hand-delivered? So what is it then? Rats run amuck? Cheese supplies running low? I can take it." My fingertip worked absently on the bedframe behind me while doing my best to keep apprehension off my face. This had been my old room, actually, when Arl Eamonn took me in several years ago as a boy. The smell was familiar, from the dust to the antiquated varnish that mottled the wood of the four posts flanking the bed. For the longest time, this was the only home I knew. Now, it functioned as a rest-stop for a long and brutal march.

This wasn't like her. I watched Elissa fidget in front of me, her gaze roaming around the room before falling on me again. Whatever this was, it was serious. I felt it in the air, so tangible and weighty it sunk deep into the marrow of my bones.

"You know I love you, right?" she said, finally, softly.

".....can you make it sound more ominous?" I groaned. Maker preserve me, but she killed me sometimes. "Tell me already. You're good at that normally, you know. Just spitting it out."

She met my eyes, and nothing else was said for a long moment. I waited. I was impatient, but I waited.

"...that was it," Elissa said, finally, her mouth bowing into a faint smile. "I just wanted to tell you before going to bed."

Right, and I'm a dancing, twirling, clockwork monkey. "...oh." I wasn't convinced, but given the look she wore earlier, I wasn't about to press her. We can talk about it tomorrow, after this was all over and Riordan's killed the archdemon. Exhaling a sigh, I stepped forward, my hand coming up to cup her cheek. It tangled into her hair, rendered loose this evening from her usual long, coiled plaits. I leaned in to press my mouth on her forehead, breathing deep. She just took a bath, I could tell, judging by the dampness in her strands and the faint trace of mint - leaves that she probably added in the water.

"You need your rest," I coaxed gently, my breath feathering over her skin. "We'll go out tomorrow, help Riordan kill an angry, purple lizard, and get drunk right after with everyone. We can watch Oghren drink everyone under the table, and we can help him draw mustaches on Sten's face once he's unconscious. It'll be fun, before he wakes up and turns us all into batter. I can think of worse fates than spending the rest of my life studded with chocolate chips."

Yes, Alistair, son of Maric. How sexy, desirable, and hot you are, admitting to a teryn's daughter that your grandest ambition is to spend your next thirty years as a cookie.

She laughed, at that, despite the worrisome trace of... something in the depths of her eyes. Her lips touched mine, and she held my head between her hands. Affection bled off her like an open wound, I took it in with every fiber of my being. Sometimes, just sometimes, it truly felt as if I were the luckiest man in the world.

"Goodnight, Alistair."

"Sweet dreams, love."

As much as the Taint could allow, anyway.

She shut the door behind her as she left, and I turned back to the bed. I needed the sleep.

Three hours later, I punched my pillow and flopped on it for another attempt. I couldn't sleep. Again. Bouts of insomnia especially this close to the inevitable were unwelcome, I needed my rest, and so did everyone else. While understandable, considering we were facing impossible odds tomorrow, grabbing at least a few hours of it might mean the difference between living and dying.

Or it might not matter, if Riordan fails.

I tossed and turned, rolled on my side and defiantly shut my eyes, but all I saw behind my closed lids was her expression earlier. It disturbed me, for some reason, to remember the look on her face. After Elissa left my room, and realizing I was restless, I tried to look for her, to ask her why she looked so hesitant, so ill. But she was nowhere to be found, and so I returned to my room.

I couldn't help but kick myself inwardly. I should have asked her to stay with me. This could be our last night together, and I should have made the most of it. Go figure, you would think I'd be able to work through the knots flawlessly with all this love and romance business now that everything was out in the open; I love her. Wholly. Ardently. So much so that I couldn't envision a life without her. She loves me, said so while looking me right in the eye, her fingertips tracing the seam of my mouth. We've spent several nights together, moments of sharp passion and foggy ardour which we stole however we could, as if any one of them could be our last. Now that I wasn't going to be king after all, we could live our lives as Grey Wardens, fighting side by side and journeying forth hand in hand like we were meant to. And, of course, like most epic love stories, tonight was also the night we found out that exploring that fully might not be possible, that one of us might have to die if Riordan doesn't manage to sink his blade into the beast and absorb this....essence thing.

I should have asked her. Maker, but I could be such an idiot.

What did Morrigan say to her?

Ugh, this was impossible. I threw the covers off me and sat up, raking my hand through the bristles of my short-cropped hair and rubbing my face. My evening stubble pricked at my palm, and when I looked up, I caught my reflection, taking in how I looked. Haggard, of course, these have been very long months, after all. The scars that wove fine lines over the corded muscles knitted on my bones only grew in number.

"I don't know if you've ever heard this, but girls like scars," Elissa told me once, before she traced her lips over the one dangerously close to my heart. We were on our way to Denerrim then, before the Landsmeet.

I absently thumbed the faded, white line standing out starkly over my skin. Already, her voice inside my head sounded faded, like a distant memory, a thought which chilled me to the bone considering I knew she was just down the hall, breathing and still alive. I grumbled under my breath, yanking a shirt over my head and getting up. I wasn't going to get any sleep at this rate, my head was too full and I was worrying too much. Even Wynne would be surprised at how much time I actually spent fretting over the grand design. I've cultivated a certain degree of expertise in playing the part of the blase, irreverent upstart, after all.

I pulled my door open and stepped outside. Despite the heavy temptation to do so, I didn't move towards Elissa's room. Instead, I spun on my heel, and walked in the opposite direction, my fist coming up to rap on someone else's door.

"Come in, Alistair," Morrigan replied from behind the wood.

Mages. How do they always know?

I yanked the door open, and walked inside. Once I released the handle, it shut as if in its own accord, sealing me within.


	2. Chapter 2: The Devil in the Dark

**Chapter 2: The Devil in the Dark**

"As much as I hate to admit it," Morrigan murmured, her chin lifting towards me defiantly as I turned to face her. "Despite being so childishly simple, you never fail to surprise me."

She was standing by the fire, the red-gold glow of the hearth forcing light and shadow to swirl around her as if living, as if a very part of the air she breathed. In all of the months we spent traveling together, Nightfall was the hour of the day that suited her best, when darkness blended with her hair and her amber eyes glowed like a cat's. I couldn't blame Zevran for finding her attractive, and if I were any other man, I'd probably say the same wholeheartedly. Fortunately, I was allergic to bitches.

We were bound to clash. The moment I met her in the Wilds, I knew what she was and it was almost too much for my Templar sensitivities to stand. I respected her for her talents, her cunning, though it would take a herd of wild horses to drag that out of me entirely. However, I never liked her, and she never liked me. With our journey close to an end, it'll probably never change, especially not now. She seemed to like Elissa well enough, or at least, she appeared to tolerate her sufficiently that she spared her the degree of derision she gave the rest of us. It might have something to do with Flemeth's Grimoire, which Elissa managed to procure and gave to Morrigan to study.

I didn't approve of it, but the magic she learned from the damned book saved us more times than I could ever admit, myself.

"What did you say to her?" To say I put it bluntly was an understatement.

An ebon brow lifted. Her lips tilted in an amused smile. "Has the hero come to defend his beloved?" she goaded, moving over to drape herself on the nearby couch. "You needn't, really. I've decided a long time ago that the Lady Cousland is the last person in this world that needs defending. She can handle herself just fine. You know that, don't you?"

She tilted her head at me curiously. "Ah, but that's not really the question you wanted to ask, is it, Alistair?"

I lifted my brows at her in turn. "Well, that's surprising," I replied drolly. "Since when did you become such an expert on me?"

"Hmmmm." A slender finger tapped on her chin. "I'll tell you what. I'll make a guess, just one, and if I get it right, you'll admit it. Do we have an accord?"

This should be good.

She continued. "You're not really interested as to what I actually said to her," she said, smoothing her hand over the couch's upholstery and turning her gaze away from me. "I say so because you've made it abundantly clear to me that you could scarcely care as to whatever I think. What you're really wondering about is a decision she made but one which she suddenly changed her mind about the moment she looked at you." Her eyes lifted to meet mine, her own strangely hooded. "You and I both know she's a very decisive person. She scarcely ever changes her mind once she's reached a definite course of action."

....well, crap. Admittedly I was being somewhat egotistical. Given our closeness, it was easy for me to keep on thinking that I knew her the best out of all of us. I kept forgetting how smart Morrigan actually was. Despite her tongue and her inability to adapt to social situations, the Witch's intellect was a force to be reckoned with in turn.

"She wanted to tell me something," I replied, finally.

"Oh, I'm certain she did." Morrigan crossed her legs by the knee, her imperious expression growing more serious. "What she didn't tell you is that I offered her a loophole. I know what happens when a Grey Warden kills an archdemon."

"The Warden dies," I supplied. "No matter. Riordan'll skewer the thing, and that'll be the end of it."

To my credit, I sounded confident.

"If you like being stupidly optimistic, go ahead," the Witch remarked, and while I expected her to look smug at yet another barb tossed at me, I was surprised to find none of it on her face. "But Riordan is an older Warden. The Taint has ravaged his body, it's only about time at his age. His chances of striking the final blow are... slim."

She met my eyes, and I felt a chill run down my spine. "I found a way to circumvent it, Alistair. But that would require utilizing methods you would not approve. It is magic, yes, old magic. Knowledge lost in the passage of the years. And I have the means to do it, except for one thing."

"And what is that one thing?" Insurance. She was offering me insurance, offered Elissa insurance. But at this point, I could only profess my confusion. This was right up Elissa's alley, she used almost everything to her advantage. Why didn't she...?

"You, Alistair." By her tone, she didn't like it either. "I need you to quicken me."

What?

Wait, what?

WHAT?!

"You...need me to... wait... how does that even-- ?!" I lost my footing. I was so ready to do battle, lock horns with the woman I've been clashing with since I met her, and then she tells me that she wants...

"I need you to give me a child," Morrigan continued, her voice growing flat. "And it needs to be conceived tonight. Whether the archdemon dies by your hand, Elissa's, or Riordan's, it would not matter. The essence of the demon will seek out the child like a beacon, and since it could barely be called a living thing within the next day, it will absorb it. The child will survive."

"You want to have some kind of demon baby?!" My voice rose, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Don't be an idiot, Alistair." Her tone sharpened at that. "I am not interested in an archdemon's dark powers. When the child is born, it will be something different. It will carry the soul of an Old God, free of the Taint." She angled her head at me. "Don't you think Ferelden's mystical heritage is worth preserving? In a pure, uncorrupted state?"

I set my jaw. The Templar in me screamed that I was even entertaining this. I raked my hand through my hair, and started to pace around her room. It was her space, borrowed as it was, but I didn't care. I needed room to move, to quell the urge not to kill her right there.

She watched me, and for the first time since I entered the room, she was silent.

"Why Elissa?"

"Hm?"

I looked up at her, stopping in my tracks. "This was about me," I said, harshly. "This was my decision to make. Why did you go to Elissa? Why didn't you come to me?"

She sniffed. "Because I knew you would never agree to it unless it came from her."

Well, that was insulting. I'd like to think that I was fully capable of making my own decisions. Elissa knew that. Morrigan knew out of all of them how stubborn and recalcitrant I could be when--

Wait.

"I get it." I turned to finally look at her, it had been difficult to in the past several moments, but now I had the urge to look her in the eye as I uttered my next words. "It was her life you wanted to save."

Surprise entered the woman's features. By then, I knew I was right.

"You could scarcely give a damn about mine. I hold no illusions regarding our acquaintanceship," I continued. "But Elissa might very well be another story. She talked to you, she bothered to know what sort of things you wanted whenever she went to town. She found Flemeth's books for you. She found a way to tear you away from your mother's influence. She may very well be the first person in your life that you could call a friend and you went to her because you wanted to look her in the eye and see if she'll let you pull her out of this."

Our eyes met, and held. The lull in the conversation stretched on for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, she turned her head, snorting. "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered. "As I mentioned before, friendship has no meaning. Remember, I am getting something out of this. Whether I get it or not, I'll be gone when this is over."

The most surprising things could only really be found at the dark of night. I watched her as she stared at the fire, a certain sense of gloom falling over her like a veil. My face felt so tense it may as well be carved out of stone as I observed her, feeling my fingers clench and unclench uselessly on my sides. It was odd, how this reluctant, silent admission changes everything, how the Templar in me receded in the background for just a moment so I was the one making the difficult choices...for there are choices, now, and not just one course of action. For once, I was in Elissa's shoes, facing the gray areas of my beliefs, struggling with what was right versus what I wanted; the delicate balancing act that pulled us apart in some cases and kept us together in others. And Morrigan, herself, who spent her entire life detached from a world that ignored her and passed her by, stunned by a realization that she wasn't as emotionally stalwart as she thought.

It was the kind of silence that could only be produced by two, extreme opposites who just noticed that they had one, very important thing in common.

I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. My voice sounded disembodied, disjointed, certainly not my own. It was so low, growled out, forced from clenched teeth and the very depths of steely reluctance.

"Let's get on with it, then."

Morrigan looked at me. This was, probably, the only time when I can say we actually agreed on something. Maker, help me.

She slid off the couch, deliberate grace imprinted on every sinuous movement, as if made of cream and midnight silk. Both her arms folded upwards, her fingers slipping around her neck and on her shoulders. When her clothes started dropping in front of me, my chest constricted painfully. The sensation felt akin to a solid fist the size of Sten's plowing into the base of my ribcage, and wringing out every breath. My heart sank as it raced, and just when it felt as if I were going to die, numbness took over, and as I looked at her, dazed, I felt nothing.

"Come, Alistair," Morrigan murmured. "You won't hate this as much as you'd think."

"You don't really want to know what I think," I muttered, grasping the fabric of my shirt and jerking it off my head.

"I already know what you think," the Witch replied, as the haze grew, and as the null-sensation continued to take me over. "And what you will be thinking about for the next few hours."

I didn't notice it, or perhaps I didn't realize it, but once I shed off the rest of my clothes, I could only see the dim outline of the bed. My head felt as if it were filled with cotton, and all I could do was stumble towards it. My heavy body slumped into the mattress, sprawled on my back, my eyes cast to the ceiling.

It was strange. I knew she was doing something... did something, to me. Perhaps it was part of her ritual. The ceiling spun hazily above me, and suddenly, everything went dark. I was still conscious, I knew I wasn't sleeping. I felt bare skin fold over me, slender legs straddling my hips and palms braced over my chest. Fingertips, long and tapered, soft despite months of travel, traced over the hard planes of me and tickled the base of my neck.

The fragrance of mint filled my nostrils. At the back of my head, I saw a pair of dark eyes look into mine. I groaned, quietly. My hand, in its own volition, slid upwards the flat of a pale-skinned stomach I knew was there, but couldn't see. Up, and higher, still, in my sudden and unwilling blindness, until one of my palms cupped a soft breast and my thumb teasing a tightened peak. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to break through my ribs and scatter bone fragments everywhere. In the strange haze, I thought I saw red hair, brilliant scarlet tinged with the metallic sheen of gold, tangled over creamy shoulders and brushing over my abdomen.

The urge clawed at me from within, something caged rattling at the bars of my control. The moment I felt my arousal sink deep into hot, velvet moisture, the reins snapped, and I was moving. I rolled over the nearly non-existent weight above me, braced my knees into the mattress and drove into the deepest point of penetration I could find.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Fingernails clawed and dug at my back. I could feel the welts rise from my skin. My unseen hand wound tight into the tousled strands of hair I felt beneath me and held on. Despite the angle of the head I felt, I didn't kiss her. I wasn't so far gone that I didn't recognize this for what this was. I heard wood thump against wood rhythmically, the wet sounds of bodies meeting, all falling away as I sank further into the dark, velvet pit of my need.

Something shattered. There was a scream, but I ignored it. Light exploded in front of my eyes and a maddening swirl of color overtook the inky black. I bit my lip, hard enough to taste the coppery tang of my own blood on my tongue, to keep myself from groaning as I surged forward and emptied myself in the willing vessel writhing under me.

Liquid warmth overtook the granite feel of my bones. My ragged breathing filled the vast, seemingly eternal space. Something was pulling me down, and feeling every part of me going lax, I let go, and drifted.

I whispered her name before my nightmare swallowed me completely.


	3. Side Chapter 1: Her One and Only Prayer

**Side Chapter 1: Her One and Only Prayer**

The Chantry was empty. Shadows pooled in the corners, darkness broken only by the shafts of light that managed to penetrate the windows by way of the moon's angle. Stone supported wood as beams arched over her head, threaded over the main foundations and running along the creases of the roof. Masonry in Redcliffe was simple, rudimentary, its quality lower on the scale in contrast to other places that she had seen in her travels. Denerrim, the Tower, Orzammar, especially, the great, cavernous city where its inhabitants treated stone as a living thing and regarded it as an ever-present and tangible god.

She stepped into the hallowed space unarmed, a cloak swathed over her shoulders and her hair unbound. Fingertips busily unlatched the Drakeskin pushback strikers she had looted from Jarvia just before she shuffled her off the mortal coil, setting it to the side along with a careless toss of her cloak. The gesture may seem irreverent, perhaps, considering how neat the sisters and brothers kept this branch of the Chantry, but there was no one around. The space was unoccupied, devoid of life save for her own.

Her perpetually brisk, confident strides took her to the middle of the room, to the statue situated at the very center and towards the back. Clearly, it was an artist's rendering of the Maker's benevolence, to stand in for the actual thing that purportedly existed beyond the Fade.

The defiant part of her even now refused to acknowledge him. She didn't want to seriously contemplate the meaning of his existence, this omniscient being who created the souls that walked on the land beneath her feet, and then later on turned his back and forced his children to struggle in an effort to find their own pockets of redemption, if they could find it in this life.

"I thought," Elissa began, her voice low, and murmured in the dark. "That we could have a little chat, because after tomorrow, we'll be meeting face to face. The Chantry says your presence makes everything around you beautiful. I suppose I'll be seeing it for myself in the next several hours. If you've been watching all this time, I could be a bit of an opportunist, and since you apparently made me, you already knew that about me, so hopefully, this doesn't come as too much of a surprise."

She took a deep breath, moving further to the center of the room, tilting her head up to meet the statue's eyes.

Her feet tapped together. Her arm swept forward in a graceful, flourished bow. "My name is Elissa Cousland, youngest of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland of Highever," she introduced straightforwardly. "You would know them because they returned to you several months ago. If my mother's told you the story about how I accidentally set my brother's hair on fire when I was seven, already, don't believe her... you know it wasn't my fault, you were there."

The quip sounded hollow, out of place in such sacred territory. She cleared her throat as she straightened. It was hard to talk to something that didn't talk back, but she shouldered on. After all, she had enough practice with Sten.

"I have... many things to be thankful for," she said softly. "In the last few months. I saw places I thought I would never go, met people I never thought I would like. I've had numerous opportunities to aid those who could use a hand, though I didn't always take them, but those that I did, it felt rewarding. I've made questionable people pay for some of their crimes. I've saved lives. I did my best to purge the darkness that threatens to destroy what you created and left for us to maintain, and I still am... at least through tomorrow."

"I set a young woman free from her domineering mother, returned a lost blade to one whose very purpose and being were tied to it. I helped my mentor find closure with an old regret. I gave flowers to remind a friend of someone she lost, and spared the life of an assassin. I assisted a dwarf find his long-lost wife, even though that...uh..." She winced. "Ended up rather poorly, but he didn't seem too sore about it in the end. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Silence was her only reply. She sighed, and raked her fingers through her hair.

"I've..." She closed her eyes. "Experienced love, for the first and the last time. Given and returned, and despite the convenient exeunt offered to me from the fate I face now, I couldn't..."

She drew a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. "All this, I've done... but I am no hero. I'm not some great champion for your cause no matter what they say or how many I've fooled. I didn't even believe in your beloved's divinity until I found myself in her tomb and saw traces of her death cure an arl. I've ruined lives, also, after all. I stole, I lied, I double-crossed, backstabbed, and did what I could to win. There were circumstances, choices I made in where I followed a more convenient path instead of the right one, all for the sake of survival, for getting to this point where all that's left is a dead end. I would be lying, something which I'm good at, if I told you that I led a good life and that I deserve to be saved from what remains in store for me in the beyond. I'm not... I don't have the gall to ask you that, and I'm capable of asking for quite a bit."

Her fingers clenched tightly on her sides, balling into fists. Her words echoed in the vacant chamber, and hearing them whispered back to her, she couldn't help but lower her head, her hair hooding her eyes.

"I'm only twenty-three," she said faintly, her voice breaking at the seams, bravado bleeding away in light of the truth. "I'm only twenty-three, and I don't want to die."

Gravity anchored her down, the ground tilted under her feet. She followed, dropping on her knees, her arms moving to brace her upwards by the palms. Bile rose to her throat, her stomach churned as her complexion went from pale to gray, from luminescent to something less under the rays of moonlight crisscrossing with the stygian shades of the hour.

"But I have to. I have to. Oh, Maker, help me, but I have to."

Her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth ground together tightly. She shook her head, and forced it to tilt upwards at the looming, antiquated marble in front of her.

"All I ask," she breathed. "Is the strength. The courage. The sheer, brutal, bloody temerity. What I have in scores now, my bravado, I need in spades. Endless, never ceasing supplies of it. Waves. Oceans. I need it now, more than ever. Give me..." Her voice shook, and she paused to compose herself, before trying again. "Give me the requisite steel in my spine to give my life so no one else has to. And I hope in doing so that you'll be satisfied, and that whatever bad things I've done, you'll f...f...forgive me."

It was getting harder to talk, more difficult to draw a breath. A painful vise curled over her chest, robbing her of air as her mind spun over the realization that she may be living her final hours. That when it came down to it, there may only be one way to end it. That there was only one way to end it. One way, because the other way, with another life, was utterly unacceptable, not when she spent the last few months ensuring that it was her way or no way.

"Please."

Her head felt heavy. How could it feel so light and heavy at once? Her body folded forward, lower, still, until her forehead found cold, icy stone, one small haven of relief.

"Please."

Stone remained stalwart, and wood creaked on occasion. And despite heartfelt pleas, nothing whispered back to answer. Light continued to pour into the uncovered windows, gleaming blue-silver on metal, and angling her shadow across the floor as clouds shifted over star-spangled skies to reveal more of the moon's surface. Its movement stretched the darker version of her form over the mineral surface underneath her, thinner, but bigger than she actually was.

Her glassy eyes regarded her shaded mirror in silence.

She straightened, sitting back on her heels, and tilted her head upwards. Her eyes closed as she took another breath, while the back of her knuckles dragged over her lashes and defiantly ignored the heated moisture dewing her skin. She stood, her hand whisking her things off the pew, and left without another word.

She had a war to win tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 3: Forward Into Chaos

**Chapter 3: Forward Into Chaos**

I felt her eyes bore onto my back as I pulled my shirt over my head, dragging the hem down to my abdomen and hunching over on the side of the bed. The heady feeling that lingered within my skull throbbed within my temples, as if I drank too much the night before. It was a small comfort that my heart ceased its erratic, worrisome pounding earlier. There was also a tiny measure of relief that I could see again and my senses weren't as confused as they had been. Everything ached, and the burnt taste of something I couldn't define stuck in my craw as if something barbed and hooked.

It must be what guilt tastes like, I thought.

There was a rustle of cloth behind me, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't even look at her, not just because of what we had done, but also because she was still undressed. It was a small mercy not having been able to see her, to have my eyes burn with the images of what I had just done, what I forced myself to accomplish.

"Did you tell her you were coming to see me?"

The inquiry was unexpected. I turned my head to the side, enough to glance at her from the corner of my eye and acknowledge her without seeing her. "No," I replied truthfully. "When I decided to come and speak with you, I didn't think..." That I would end up here. That I would hear what I heard. That I would realize what I did. That I would do....

"I see."

Morrigan paused at that, and I heard her roll over to the opposite side of the bed. There was more rustling of fabric, the sound of bare feet on stone floors. There was a jingle of something metallic. I didn't turn around, in case she was dressing, and concentrated on getting my head straight. I felt strange, still, an eerie thrumming vibrating down my spine and around the cradle of my hips.

"You ought to tell her as soon as possible. She will know that you came to me, if Riordan falls and one of you has to strike the final blow. And then...."

Her shadow fell over me, and I couldn't help but look up. Her expression was hooded, but serious, and much like Elissa, she never failed to look me in the eye. As much as I hated myself for doing what I just did, I couldn't help but feel a flash of admiration as to how she could look me in the face after I called her out on her more human side. What she was saying surprised me just as much as... well, everything in the last hour or so did.

She shrugged. "....well. It would be a pity if she got ridiculously incensed over this when you did all this just to save her."

It was something to think about. Elissa, for the most part, was a rational person, but she also had a temper. Much like me, she was inexperienced when it came to all this, the kind of intimate attachments that shaped one's viewpoints of future ones in the years to come. I haven't even had the time to reflect on what I felt about what just happened, save, of course, for the deep-seated guilt that was already triggering painful spasms at the bowels of my stomach.

"You're right. I'll tell her as soon as I see her." As soon as I go out and find her the moment I leave this room.

Did I actually just say that to something Morrigan just said? Maker help me, but sex really did change everything.

I pushed myself off the bed, and forced myself to look her in the eye. I could feel a bit of my pride crumbling, but to my credit, I managed it without looking pinched. "Thank you," I replied gruffly. "No matter what your reasons. You didn't have to do....whatever you just did. To make it easier on me."

Her expression, at that, was neutral. "Don't read too much into it, Alistair," she said, her tone mild despite her words. "I needed to ensure you could perform. It was necessary."

I smirked at that. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," I said, re-injecting some of the status quo.

Awkwardness crashed into the room like a drunken, pink elephant. I nodded my head stiffly in lieu of a proper goodnight before opening her door and stepping out, and once I did, that same heaviness returned. This time, it wasn't out of the consequences, the aftereffects of a magical ritual, but something else entirely. Seeing Elissa's door at the end of the hall felt like salt on an open wound. I couldn't help but feel my body slump against the nearest wall, thumping the back of my skull upon stone over and over and over again.

Maker, how in the deep, abyssal darkness do I even bring this up? iBy the way, darling, I asked the Witch about what you were so concerned about earlier and I ended up impregnating her while you were sleeping, but I really only did it for you! I thought about you the entire time!/i

That would get me killed, which, in retrospect, would be egregiously counterproductive as to why I agreed to the whole blasted thing to begin with.

But no matter how many times I could justify it to myself, I can't keep this from her. I tried that tact once, before we entered Redcliffe when I had to tell her who and what I actually was. She wasn't happy, naturally, and my reasons for keeping my heritage from her had been selfish. I was already infatuated with her, by then, and my royal blood only served to ruin things for me in the past. In fact, during the Landsmeet, it almost did all over again. Even now, I still didn't know what I was thinking. I could've put her and everyone else in danger if Loghain saw me as a legitimate threat to the throne. He would've tried doubly hard to get rid of us and the journey had been difficult enough without any more extended efforts on his part. Away from one hurdle, I suppose it was only about time where I encountered one all over again as far as Elissa was concerned.

I forced myself to walk towards her door, my shoulders already slumping, visualizing everything from the look on her face to the things she would say (and none of them good). Before I reached it, however, it suddenly swung open and my heart threatened to implode within my chest. Did she sense me coming?

Another face, however, emerged from the opening. I relaxed, though only slightly. "Nigella?" I inquired, my brows furrowing. "What were you doing in E-- the Lady Cousland's room?"

"Oh, Master Alistair," the maid greeted, bobbing her head. "I was just taking away the tea things. The Lady Cousland asked for some with a bit of sleep draught. She couldn't sleep, you see, and she said she needed the rest. So the castle healer obliged her."

Oh, great. Fantastic. The urge to palm my face was overwhelming. Granted, I should've seen this coming, knowing how she was when she had a purpose. Elissa did what was necessary, and if she decided she needed sleep, and couldn't on her own accord, she'll find a way for it to happen, especially for a day as important as tomorrow. This also meant that I was going to have to try and sleep and bring this up as soon as possible on the day of battle. Part of me wanted to wait. Part of me wanted to put this off for as long as I can. We had enough worries, and the final fight was looming over us. Everything had to and should be set aside for the sake of ending this before all we know and love is destroyed.

But I can't, not in good conscience. I wasn't about to do that to her again.

Typical of the woman, she pulled the choice away from me even when she doesn't know what's going on.

I sighed, and bid Nigella goodnight, slipping in Elissa's room in hopes that she was still awake. I was out of luck in that regard, she was sound asleep, curled up on the mattress with her long, red hair webbed against her pillow and turned on her side. I sat on the edge of her bed, and drew the covers over her shoulder to keep the chill in her room from rendering her sick (which would be the last thing we need considering she was leading the entire army). For the first time since her Joining, she actually looked peaceful as I observed her, soft, deep inhalations of breath feathering her pillowcase. She never had the time to acclimate herself with the nightmares... in the evenings when we'd share the same tent, she would often wake me up.

Looking at her now, I didn't have the heart to rouse her. This was important enough that I should, but efforts in that regard would be fruitless when she had to go off and put herself down in this fashion, guaranteeing she won't wake up until tomorrow. She looked peaceful, yes, but also terribly exhausted. I wonder where she went, earlier, she wasn't anywhere in the castle when I looked for her.

This would have to wait until morning, or the end of the fight. Whatever anger she would feel... well, I hope she'll direct them to the Darkspawn instead of me. I've seen her fight when angry, when frustrated. She could be a berserker if she didn't value finesse so highly.

I had to try and put this out of my mind. The timing is ill, and I'll barely be able to function if I didn't. I absently threaded my fingers through her crimson tresses, watched the way they slid so easily through my fingers.

"One day," I murmured. "You're going to be the death of me."

One day, but not tomorrow. I made sure of it.

The thought of it only made that sick, guilty feeling grow, to fester. How did I manage to bring myself to this end? I haven't even given myself time to think, to prepare for this when I should. I've already accepted that I'm not the smartest, most thorough man in the world. I could be reckless, temperamental in my worst days. Impulsive. The stereotypical brash, young hothead whose function was to charge forward and kill things when directed without much in way of contemplation and strategy on his own part. These days, it was more of a disadvantage than anything else, but it was part of who I was and for the life of me, I can't seem to get it right without investing hours of careful rumination beforehand. Seconds, minutes, and blocks of time that I don't really have. And now that we're running out of it, it was so, very...frustrating.

I leaned forward, pressed my mouth gently against her temple, and left her room so I could re-enter mine. I had to let it go, for now.

I don't know how I managed it, but I managed to sleep, however fitful. It was difficult, and perhaps I should have adopted Elissa's method. With the Archdemon active and moving, I couldn't block the images out entirely. I was six months into the Order before it got decimated, and whenever it manifested in my dreams, I could never keep it out. I suppose we shouldn't try, we needed to know what it was doing, and we could occasionally get those hints from our dreams. I heard stories that the longer we were exposed to them, we could actually start understanding what the Darkspawn were saying, what they growled and snapped at each other whenever they were clustered in large numbers. Unfortunately, Elissa and I were too new for that, too junior, too green no matter how many skirmishes we've fought to take advantage of what precious, little intelligence we could glean from that ability.

It took me a few moments to realize there were loud, disturbing sounds invading the mists of sleep that blanketed my mind for a handful of hours. I was up in an instant when a fist banged frantically against my door just before dawn. I groaned, and rubbed my face, only to freeze when the loud calls cleared up, crashing into my just-found awareness with all of the subtlety of a charging Bronto.

Alarm bells were ringing all over the castle. All over Redcliffe.

I don't know how I managed to get my clothes and armor on in seconds. If I knew I was going to sleep as fitfully as I did, I should've kept them on. I cursed, and swore, all the epithets I collected while I was in the Chantry (I never said I was a particularly good student) and learned in my travels unleashed as I practically ripped my door from its hinges and hurled myself in the hallway. The entire area was a flurry of frantic activity, it didn't take a scholar like Brother Genitivi to recognize that something was wrong. I bolted down the corridor, doors flying open on all sides of me. Oghren jumped out of my periphery, his armor only half-on him and battle axe in hand. In the haze of what I saw (or rather, smelled, this was Oghren we were talking about here, after all) was a pretty sizable hangover, he lurched and crashed into my legs. We would have tumbled sideways if I didn't dig my heels down.

"Get yer ass goin', Chantry boy! We've got Darkspawn to kill!"

"What's going on?!" I hollered as I dashed with him.

"Beats the soddin' crap outta me! I just know somethin' needs killin' when I hear it!"

Damn it! Did something get inside the castle?! This was the last thing we needed! I swore, again, much to the dwarf's surprise. We barreled into Zevran and Elissa as we rounded the corner, all of us tumbling down in a pile of arms and limbs as knights ran past us and castle servants tried to keep out of the way.

"....Oghren, my dwarven friend, far be it for me to judge, but you've got the hairiest armpit I've ever had the distinct displeasure of finding my face in," the assassin groaned, managing to yank himself away from his tangled position with the dwarf.

"Yeah? At least I don't shave my legs like an Orlesian sissy-man!"

"While it may seem like an aesthetic endeavor on my part, I assure you it has a practical pur-- "

"Some heroes of Ferelden we are if we can't even run in a damned hallway like a cohesive unit!" Elissa exclaimed as I grasped her wrist and helped her up.

"Relax. Nothing cures a hangover like the end of the world," I said, my tone straddling the line between flippant and dismissive. "What's going on?!" I asked the question again, because no one was answering me and it took everything I had in me not to shake a helpful reply out of the nearest person in my position.

"The army's mobilizing. There's an emergency war council, I don't know what happened yet, but we have to go," my fellow Warden stated. While the answer was unsatisfactory, it was enough to get us all up and moving again, running as fast as we could outside of the castle and into the courtyard where preparations were well underway.

Much like any other campaign, the beginning could be extremely chaotic. Messengers ran back and forth, I could hear horns blowing from a distance. The groups we amassed were all busy packing up as fast as they could, but nothing offered any indication as to what was actually happening save for the fact that we'll be marching a little earlier than intended. It was still dark, outside, flames from flanking torches flickering and causing the wraithly shrouds of the hour to dance around us, mocking our panic in every step. I could see familiar faces, Arl Eamon and his brother, Bann Teagan among them. Even Anora was there, the newly-made queen resplendent in silver armor fashioned after the style of her father's. She looked up as I and the rest of the party arrived, relief, but not much of it, settling over her porcelain features.

"Warden," she addressed Elissa, and ignoring me for the time being. "You're just in time, we have a bit of a conundrum."

"We received word from one of our scouts," Teagan said, looking up from the table hastily set up on the side, a bloodied piece of paper clutched in his hand and his expression grim. "The Darkspawn horde marched through the night. We didn't think they would, it's dangerous to pass through the Korcari Wilds in pitch black, but with the Archdemon leading them now, they've become brazen. We tracked at least four legions several miles out of the borders and while this is speculation, they already sent their scouting parties ahead.

My heartbeat quickened at the news, homing in at the gist of what the bann was implying. "Did they double their lead on us to Denerim overnight?!" I felt my knuckles ball into fists, restraining the urge to grab the rest of my group and run to intercept them.

Arl Eamon tucked his helm under his arm, his gaze falling onto me as he nodded. "Riordan went ahead, once he heard," he said, and while his eyes didn't leave mine, he raised his voice loud enough so everyone could hear. "He'll rally with us at the capital."

Elissa joined Teagan by the map, planting her palms on either sides of it and narrowing her eyes. I could already see the wheels of her trick-filled mind working as she stared at the parchment in front of her. "They already had a lead on us the evening before, we'll probably be too late to intercept their scouts, but maybe we can do something about the legions who went ahead. We're just going to have to cut down what we can of their newfound progress as best we can," she said, flawlessly taking the reins of the operation. "Did the scout tell us which direction they were headed?"

"North by northeast," Eamon replied, moving to take his place by the table as the rest of us attempted to crowd in and take a look at the map ourselves.

"They'll have to pass the Bresilian Forest in that case." Our redhaired general tapped her finger on the area. "We didn't leave much in way of reserves there to keep an eye out, but we did, and that's better than nothing. We'll have to send a bird, the fastest we have, to warn them and give our orders. Bann Teagan, send a messenger to the elves and tell them to put together a small unit of hunters to function as saboteurs and head for the Forest as quick as they can to aid them. Tell them not to engage directly, but to cause enough trouble to slow them down. We'll use their superior knowledge of the territory to our advantage as well as their knack in vanishing from sight." She looked up to regard Oghren, Zevran, and me with a smirk. "Hopefully to a certain troublesome treeline."

"Heh heh heh." Oghren's grin widened under his beard. Despite the urgency, I couldn't help but smile.

"That won't be enough. We'll take what we can of our army across Lake Calenhad. I know we don't have enough boats to ferry all of us, but using the lake will make our travel faster. We'll bring the mages, they'll ease and expedite our crossing," Elissa continued, her fingers shifting to the designated area. "The rest will have to go around the southwest. Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan will lead that group. I'll go ahead with my usual party and whatever we could fit through the lake. And then both groups should head through the northwest and southwest side roads network, we can use them to cut diagonally across Ferelden towards Denerim."

"Those networks are crawling with bandits and profiteers," Teagan remarked, displeased with the thought of vultures overrunning the western portions of the country. "Armed with traps, bows, and explosives. We can't afford to lose any more men, we'll be outnumbered as it is."

"Not anymore," I chorused with Elissa. We looked at each other, and then at Teagan.

Eamon turned to me, and lifted his eyebrows in a silent prompt.

I coughed. "Well, you can say they made themselves to be too much of a problem to be tolerated for very long," I said, waving a hand to the side. "But! Water under the bridge, what's done is done, bladdy bladdy blah and all that."

As more eyes drew to Elissa, she continued mapping out our routes without looking up. "Nobody steals from me and gets away with it," she stated, her tone so casual she sounded like she was talking about the weather rather than the mass slaughter of thieves and criminals in the dead of night. "And nobody tries to kill me and gets away with it. They tried to do both, I owed them no quarter." She lifted her head, her smile flashing the hint of pearly teeth at all of us.

The admission drew a cloud of silence over the gathering. Zevran whispered sideways from the corners of his mouth. "I lucked out, didn't I?"

"You really did," I returned, my voice as dry as his homeland's sands.

"We'll rendezvous here," Elissa continued, stabbing a small blade into the map. While she played the part of a brigand well, it was at a table like this that her Cousland blood truly showed. "Where the three groups can take each direction to intersect with one another. This by no means guarantees that we'll prevent the entire horde from entering the city. Their lead's too great, chances are there'll be a small-scale invasion already by the time we all meet up, but we'll be in position to hold off the rest of the Darkspawn that are following. Once we get there, we can divvy up again and decide who holds the line and who infiltrates the city. But the line must hold while the Wardens end this."

Her earlier moment of cheerfulness dissipated. She lifted her head to look at her council, her expression determined. "Agreed?"

The chorus of "aye's" echoed in the courtyard. Oghren let out a loud, approving belch.

The group dispersed, and quickly, instructions shouted across stone, and footsteps pounding over the dirt. This was hardly the Guerrein family's first campaign, Eamon had been a distinguished commander himself in the past, after all, having fought side by side with Teryn Loghain against the Orlesian conquest. Watching them mobilize now was akin to watching the art of war come to life, where orders are handled expeditiously and officers briefed without delay. Redcliffe knights spread out like one, unified swarm, a single, calm center amidst the swirling chaos of bodies that surrounded them. It was times like these in when I couldn't blame Leliana's ilk in glorifying battles and points in our land's history that amounted to copious amounts of bloodshed over the pages of schoolbooks, not when seeing new recruits and battle-hardened veterans alike work together so seamlessly in what could be anyone's last hurrah.

Before she could get too far away from me like she was wont to do in large-scale battles as this, I managed to grab Elissa's elbow and drew her to the small alley behind the servant's quarters. I could choose to say something now, about Morrigan, about the child, about how all we have to do is survive long enough to help what remains of our order vanquish the furious, scaly reptile that caused all the mess.

Instead, I took her face between my hands and sealed my mouth over hers. Her fingers buried in my hair while I pressed her against the wall, heated, moist exchanges tangling and fusing between our conjoined lips. My fingertips roamed over her face, memorizing the fine lines blindly while I drank what I could from the sudden flashfire that erupted between us and threatened to consume my insides. It was always like this with her, I discovered, after the gentle, slightly awkward consummation of what was between us just a few weeks, maybe a month or so ago. The more we familiarized ourselves with one another, the more comfortable we became, the closer we got to the end, whatever we could salvage from the ashes of our toils only added fuel to the bonfires that threatened to rage and keep doing so whenever we were alone. It was the good and the bad result of all the waiting and stupid uncertainty, both, now that we were desperately scrambling to make up for lost opportunities with all of their unmade gestures and unsaid words.

I wish we had more time. I wish there was a way to go back so I could do this, and do this right, all over again. I wish...

Our lips parted. Her head turned to sear the molten temperatures of her breath against the palm of my hand. My open mouth slid down the pale-cream column of her throat, while her head tilted to bare it submissively. I dug my teeth gently where her pulse raced the hardest, and was rewarded with the quiet, gasping sound of my name.

After this, after all this, she might not want anything to do with me for the rest of our lives. But she would live, no matter who strikes the killing blow. She would live, and breathe. She would run over those who dared to get in the way of her next adventure with a smile and keep my heart in her pockets forever, and as long as she did, I would keep on living, also.

Her arms tightened around me, her cheek pressed close to mine.

"I love you, Alistair."

I stole another kiss, all my efforts concentrated on robbing her of breath and burning through the reserves left in my lungs. It may be the last I'll ever have from her.

"And I love you. Always."

_Even if you may never forgive me._


	5. Chapter 4: This is War

**Chapter 4: This is War**

The world was wreathed in flame, bright flashes of light mingling with the spill of dark blood splashing onto the ground. The air was heavy with smoke, the smell of rust and decay distinct. The loud sounds of metal against metal rang into the night, the screams of the dying and the shrieks of otherworldly creatures blending together in painful cacophony. All this greeted us when we finally found our groups in the rally point outside of Denerim, where Elissa and the other war leaders quickly barked their orders to hold the line. The first point of business was to stem the tide of Darkspawn trying to find their way into the city, and once we've done enough damage there, Maker-willing, we'll head into the city and finish it.

Blood-streaked and exhausted, Riordan managed to find us through the smoke. The eldest out of all of the remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden, he probably knew the most about sensing us through the Taint than we did. He was breathless, though he did his best not to show it, his dark eyes falling on Elissa and me once we managed to find a break from all the fighting. It will be brief, I knew it in my bones, before the heavy fighting started up all over again, but the breather was welcome.

The next plan was simple enough, take an infiltration group into the city and kill the archdemon's generals. Riordan was to head to Fort Drakon, and somehow lure the Archdemon there, at the highest point of the city. The plan was suicide, which certainly wasn't news to us, but I couldn't help but admire the matter-of-fact way in which he spoke, that this was his duty and he wasn't going to let us green recruits throw our lives away when the Taint hasn't even begun to take its toll on our bodies. But he needed help, and that, we would certainly give him. The thing would be calling for assistance if Riordan managed to lead his men and attacked it, and Elissa was in agreement that killing the Archdemon's generals in the city was the more prudent course of action before assisting Riordan's efforts in Fort Drakon. It was a favorite tactic of hers, to slaughter everything else that got in the way before taking her entire team to attack the one leading the charge once it was left the only one standing.

"Don't die until we get there," Elissa said, her hand reaching out to clasp Riordan's, her expression determined. "We should end this together."

Riordan's smile was fleeting, but genuine. "We should, but I make no promises. You of all people should know about taking the advantage of openings when presented."

He left quickly, afterwards. Elissa took the rest of us and dashed for the gates. Her expression was unreadable, though I could only really guess at what she was thinking. The way she was moving, however, it was clear that she was in a hurry, and I can't blame her for it. After all, Riordan needed help, she was probably intending to kill the two generals in Denerim as expeditiously as she could so she could head to Fort Drakon to unify what remained of our Order and destroy the main threat.

All of us broke through the gates. Something about it was uplifting, with all the months we've spent together, traveling, arguing, bantering, seeing us now, you wouldn't think we all disliked each other or at the very least were wary of one another at first. Like a multi-headed beast, we moved through the shattered remains of Denerim's fortifications, cutting down every single Darkspawn that dared get in our way.

Once we entered and found ourselves in the Market District, a shadow fell over us. The shriek was loud, and deafening. We all couldn't help but look up, and watch light reflect off black and violet scales. The Archdemon swooped upwards, rallying its forces with that loud, keening cry, the wind stirring around every sweeping gestures of its wings as its presence cast darkness onto the ground. Its tail lashed, its mouth opened to reveal rows of teeth, baring them at us before it turned its body and continued flying past.

It was my first glimpse of a tainted god face to face, without the veil of dreams and fevered visions. Beautiful, and terrible.

"It's...." Elissa paused. "....big."

I whipped my head to her, gaping. "Big?!" I exclaimed, incredulous. "I was more concerned about the fact that it's ridiculously pissed off!"

"!" Oghren charged past us, his battle cry escaping his beard. Large axe in hand, he hefted it above his head while he threw himself at the legs of an ogre in full speed.

My fellow Warden sighed, sidestepping out of the way so I could swing my shield into the face of an incoming Hurlock. "Well," she said breezily, as if we weren't surrounded by death, madness, and destruction. "You know what they say about size."

"That it doesn't matter? That when it passes a certain threshold, that's when you should run in another direction?" I grunted, my sword flipping over my hand and lopping off the head of another Darkspawn when it approached us. "It's not the size that counts, but how you use it? Your mother's so fat she-- ?"

"The bigger they are..." Elissa's hand lashed forward, throwing dust in the eyes of an attacking Genlock before driving both her blades down into its throat. "The more blind spots they have."

".....you know, I worry about you, sometimes."

"I had an older brother. It was a defense mechanism."

Her grin, all levity and bravado, cut a gleaming crescent over her blood-sprinkled face. The two of us turned around, and rushed towards the rest of our group, as busy as it is cutting a bloody swathe through the swarm of enemies that threatened to overwhelm us. It seemed endless, unceasing, living darkness rising up all teeth and sharp objects and horns trying their very best to kill us.

We reached a lull in the fighting, but no sign of one of the Archdemon's generals. My lungs burned, and my body ached. Armor, while excellent in warding off damage, took a toll on the stamina the longer the fight went. I was exhausted, but stopping was not an option. We clustered together at our commander's signal.

"This'll take too much time. We should split up," Elissa suggested once we've regrouped. "We know there are two generals here. We've got enough bodies to be able to look out for one another. The sooner we kill them both, the sooner we can help Riordan."

"I'll go wherever you need me to be, kadan," Sten rumbled. "But we have to make this quick."

"I agree," Wynne murmured. I looked at her worriedly, once she spoke, but she looked... surprisingly alright.

"Well, then, let's get on with it, shall we?" Morrigan prompted, lifting a brow at the rest of us. "The Archdemon isn't going to kill itself, after all, otherwise we wouldn't have this problem in the first place."

I opened my mouth. "I'll go with-- "

"Alistair can take Morrigan, Zevran, Percival and Leliana." Elissa cut me off before I could even say anything substantial, much less protest. "One Grey Warden and one mage for each group to detect Darkspawn and neutralize magical threats." She looked over at me, apology writ on her features, knowing I wouldn't like it but going forward with it anyway. "I'll take Sten, Oghren, and Wynne. We'll tackle the Alienage while you clear out the Market District."

"Did you hear that, boy? We'll be killing Darkspawn together," Leliana cooed, dropping a hand to ruffle the Mabari's ears.

I wasn't comfortable with this. Going in, I was adamant about not letting her out of my sight. But there were Darkspawn to kill, waves of enemies between us and our target, and Riordan was facing it alone. The plan made sense regardless of my misgivings. We had to get to him as fast as we possibly could.

But...

"Take Percy," I urged, meeting her eyes. "I can stand in for two people."

She shook her head. "The Market District is bigger. You'll need the bodies. Besides, so can Sten. We'll rally at Fort Drakon once the generals are dead, and then we'll hit the tower." She swept her gaze over the gathering. "Agreed?"

"Let's go!" Oghren exclaimed, impatient as always. "Show these damned blighters our hearts, and then show them theirs!"

I grinned, despite my apprehensions. "...that's creepy, Oghren."

" 've been wantin' to say that for a while now," the dwarf replied, rubbing his nose. "Chances are, 'll pro'ly do it, too."

"No doubts about that, my friend," Zevran said, a hand patting the bearded man's shoulder. "No doubts whatsoever."

We all looked at each other, then, and for the moment, for just a few seconds, the battle was forgotten. No words needed to be said, even as I hung onto the optimistic thought that I'll be seeing them all later, pressing forward like we always have. I would like to think the rest thought the same.

"It's been a pleasure, everyone," Elissa stated, finally. "Now, let's win the endgame, shall we?"

A chorus of agreement rose from the rest of us. Before our group split, I turned to my fellow Warden, my expression the most serious I've ever had it.

"Be careful." These were two words that were almost obligatory, said whenever we had to lose sight of one another in the earliest days of our recruitment in the Order. Partners. Battle comrades. It felt like a lifetime ago, but today, they held more meaning than I could adequately express.

She nodded, the ever-present facade of her sheer, brazen moxie falling away. "You too," she murmured tenderly, before she spun on her heel to rejoin the members of her group.

"And don't do anything insane!" I called behind her. It was useless to tell her that, but I said it anyway.

"That's my line!" she shot back, her sharp smile tossed back at me over her shoulder.

I took a breath, and turned to look at my own group. For once, since this entire thing started, I was in charge. I had people to look after, and I didn't have Elissa to depend on reining in these personalities. I could've used the training, perhaps, several months ago, but now that things were desperate, there was very little choice. I just hope I'll be able to handle it for a few hours. I was more accustomed, more comfortable with following someone else's lead, to the extent that my fellow comrades-at-arms have remarked on it in more than one occasion. I wondered for the longest time why that was, wondering if it was a lack of confidence or whether my training led me to be deferential to those who I recognized as more qualified to make decisions. I hold no illusions regarding the breadth of my intellect, after all, and I did hold a certain aversion to the thought of getting people killed because I was being an idiot. Now that I didn't have that option, I was going to have to adapt, and adapt quickly. While worrisome, some part of me felt vindicated, as well. Deep down, I was determined to make her proud.

"Well, Alistair?" Morrigan prompted, lifting her eyebrows at me. "Now what?"

I looked at her, surprised to find that whatever awkwardness should be there was nonexistent. I glanced at the rest of my group, and then forward into the chaos. "Well, you heard the lady. Find the general, lop off his head, dance a victory jig over the corpse and meet up at Fort Drakon. Doesn't get much simpler than that, I think."

Percival went first, growling as his muscular bulk sped forward and crashed into an incoming group of Darkspawn. And then, the rest of us followed. Through the skirmish in the Market District, we moved as one.


	6. Side Chapter 2: Change of Plans

**Side-Chapter 2: Change of Plans**

The vicinity around Fort Drakon was a mess, as like the rest of Denerim. Tears stung her eyes from all the debris kicked up in the air, the smoke pouring heavily from the fires that surrounded them. It was as if the entire world had been split asunder, letting its fiery core leak out and cover the rest of Ferelden's heart. Exhausted, her skin bathed in blood and sweat, Elissa led her group through the gates, skidding to a stop once her Warden senses picked up the feeling of something large and tainted heading their way. She looked up, as the rest stopped behind her, her dark eyes lifting upwards the gray-and-black skies.

The Archdemon roared, anger and pain threatening to drown out every other sound below its massive girth. It spun in the air, and lashed uselessly at the small figure on its back. She didn't have to see clearly to know who it was, Elissa's heart stopping entirely as flecks of blood spurted upwards into the sky. The dragon shrieked, yet again, twisting and moving into a full-speed crash into the very top of the fortress.

Its lashing was too much, the tailwinds too great. She spied the small figure dropping uselessly from the dragon's back, spinning as he fell.

"Riordan!" The other Warden's name tore out of her throat. Instinct took over as Elissa ran forward, Oghren and Sten flanking her and keeping the other Darkspawn at bay as she did her best to reach the fallen man unperturbed. She didn't look at any of them, hearing the dull sound of a door shutting somewhere within her mind, sealing her fate.

This was it.

There was no going back.

She barely recognized him when she got on her knees. The height had been too great, there was no way he could have survived. The moment he let go of the dragon, he was dead. She knew it, her intellect wouldn't allow her any other conclusion. It was useless to go to him, now, but she did it anyway, turning the older man's broken body over and staring down at his lifeless eyes. His skull was practically falling apart when she moved him, pulverized as it was. The darkened pool of his blood coated her knees, and soaked into her boots.

Her heart sank. Her head bowed as she dragged her fingertips over Riordan's eyes to close them.

Wynne moved to her side, looking down at the body with her staff poised in readiness. A woman who has seen too much, and lived for decades, she already knew there was nothing she could do. "We must leave him," she said, her jaw set determinedly as she looked over her leader, and, if anyone asked her, her charge. "For now. We can retrieve him when this is over but it is too dangerous to linger here."

Elissa nodded in agreement, sitting on her heels and looking up at where the head of the horde had vanished. "It's at the very top of the main watchtower," she replied, slowly straightening. "It's..." She squinted, tapping into the forbidden ability coursing through her body and eroding her lifespan. "...badly wounded. We have to press our advantage, before it can do anything to recover."

Innards and viscous fluid splashed nearby as Sten swung his sword in a wide arc, cleaving not one, but several Darkspawn all at once. He backed up, towards the two women, close enough to overhear the conversation even though he restrained himself from looking at them. Asala, the qunari's two-handed sword, shone its deadly glitter in his hands. "Will we not wait for the others?" he asked. "That was the plan."

She felt Wynne's eyes lock into the side of her face. Elissa shook her head at Sten's query. "No. I can't risk it getting better. We have to go now. They can...the rest can follow us in when they get here, but we have to move."

"Well, let's stop yappin' and start runnin', then!" Oghren groused, hefting up his axe. "Like the Witch said, that thing ain't gonna kill itself."

The four of them moved quickly, barely casting another glance in their surroundings as they fought their way through the ranks of Darkspawn. The number of enemies pouring in and crawling over their vicinity seemed endless, and for once, Elissa led them through a straight line. The head of the group, she moved forward while Sten and Oghren flanked her and Wynne, who positioned herself in the protected center so she could cast her spells. It was the most effective way to watch each other's backs. Amidst all the destruction, separating any further was out of the question, not if they want to reach the fort in one piece.

The stairs angled upwards for what seemed like an eternity, blades flashing and magic flaring as the group did what they could to force a path towards the large doors of the fort. Elissa had been there before, having surrendered to Loghain's forces after the siege in Arl Howe's estate. She knew the layout of the lower floors, at least, something she was already taking into account as they reached the very front. Sten grunted, jerking the doors apart, letting the members of his team file in before entering himself.

Something outside exploded, raining flaming muck and shrapnel from the sky.

"This way," Elissa said, pointing the enchanted Green Blade towards the stairs.

More bodies swarmed from the top, more Darkspawn to kill. The same strategy was just as effective as she led her group upwards. Blades found the gaps between ribs. Heads rolled down the hallway, crimson splotches left behind like macabre children's finger-paintings. As grisly as these battles have been, all of them had been sufficiently desensitized, as nary a one gave the carnage a second glance. Elissa didn't stop as she ran through the halls, quickly directing the others with her to dispatch anything else that came their way. Higher, and higher, still, up the gilded hallways of the once-proud construct. The path leading to the rooftop of the fortress felt like venturing into forever, appropriate considering in many ways, it was.

Whenever she managed to sink her blade into the beast and snuff out its life, she would be entering eternity, herself. The thought sent a chill down her spine, originating from the base of her skull, but she ignored it as she fought on. Every step brought her closer, every silvery arc and swipe of her twin blades felt like progress. She could almost taste the change in proximity, the dwindling divide between herself and the entity on the roof.

Everything, from the moment she stepped into the fortress and headed further within felt like a blur. On one hand, it felt like the battle would only stretch on unceasingly, but upon reaching the topmost floor, at the vacant chamber that lead upwards to the rooftop, she couldn't help herself. She stopped, dark eyes falling on the large door in the far end.

Her heartbeat, already hammering in her ribs from the fight and so many close calls, felt like crashing thunder, a volatile storm coursing through her. The coalescing, nervous energy tugged at her aching muscles, burned through every halting breath. Shaking fingers gripped tightly onto the hilt of her slim blade, and against the smaller dagger she held in her non-dominant hand. Fear stuck like a solid marble at the back of her throat, and no measure of swallowing could dislodge it.

"Kadan?" Sten inquired somewhere behind her, his rumble low, but concerned.

Elissa's eyes closed, and she couldn't help but smile. How things have changed, with that one remark. So much has, already.

She took a deep breath, and turned to face her group. "Are you all ready?" she asked, summoning up all the strength, the courage, the veneer of pure bravado she had prayed for a night or so ago in Redcliffe's Chantry.

"Yeah," Oghren said with a wide, albeit crazed grin. "Lead on, Warden."

She nodded, and took a step forward, but paused again. "Wynne...?"

"Yes?"

The redhaired woman turned to look at the mage, the brave expression faltering but for a moment. She replaced it with a smile, melancholy lacing its edges.

"I like roses," she told her quietly.

It didn't take long for the white-haired mage to understand. Moisture sprang unbidden in her ice-blue eyes. "You shall have them," Wynne promised, swallowing herself. "All shapes and sizes, all colors available. Every year. Every year I have remaining before I join you."

Hot pinpricks of sensation stung her eyelids. Elissa stepped forward, hugging the mage around the neck and squeezed. When the woman's arms came around her, it was almost too much to bear.

Almost.

"I'll hold you to that," the Warden murmured thickly, pulling away and letting her gaze fall on the stony expressions on Sten and Oghren's faces. After everything, after all that, and this last, emotional display, she couldn't help but smirk internally.

Men. Honestly.

She took a deep breath, and spun around, her foot crashing into the double doors and busting them open. The crack of the wood and the clang of the metal frame meeting stone heralded the sudden gale of the winds outside blowing into the interior of the fortress. Elissa ran forward, the rest following suit, her fist clocking back and plowing into the face of an incoming Genlock that had been watching the door, while Oghren and Sten dispatched the rest.

Oblivion awaited her at the end of the corridor, where a dim, foreboding light streamed inward. But not yet.

Elissa skidded to a stop, ignoring the cries of the dying as the sight of the Archdemon threatened to encompass everything. Her eyes swept over her last battlefield quickly, taking in the crenelations, the number of horde members present. She took in the remaining numbers of Denerim's finest as they tried to defend what remained of their fort, dying messily in the process. She took in the corpses on the ground, the pieces of armor flung uselessly all over. The set of ballistae mounted on the roof, unused but there, beckoned at her calculating mind like beacons, gifts from an absent creator.

"Sten! Oghren! The ballistae!" she cried, pointing at the large, bulky siege weapons. "You have one target, and one target only, let the knights pick off the rest of the stragglers! Wynne, hang back, keep an eye on the rest of us, you know what to do. I'll keep it busy!"

The large qunari and the hardy dwarf jumped forward, blades moving in unison to cut down the small cluster of Genlocks that spotted them as they invaded the roof. A surge of power from Wynne blasted forward, knocking down several more.

The female Warden moved forward, swiping a crossbow from the corpse on the ground as she strode towards the Archdemon crunching through another group of knights. Her jaw hardened, eyes narrowing as she hefted it upwards, squinting along the quarrel loaded into the firing groove. She ignored the sounds all around her, the screams and the gurgling sounds of men and Darkspawn alike leaving the world of the living and onto the next.

A sudden, warm feeling washed over her, bathing her in the presence of something benevolent. Nervousness, fear, all melted away at the aura that enveloped her completely. Knowing what, or rather, who, she couldn't help but grin, bolstered all over again.

She was in good hands.

She pulled the trigger, the exploding bolt released and sent flying. It made its mark on the dragon, a golden eye bursting at the high-velocity penetration in a mass of visceral, black ichor. The angry, animalistic expulsion from its mouth threatened to shake the rooftop apart, the massive beast swiping its tail to throw attacking knights off it as it rotated on its taloned feet to look at its challenger.

She tossed the spent weapon aside. The Green Blade spun in her fingers, the hold on her dagger reversing. She locked gazes with the means to her end, marveling internally that she hasn't run away as of yet. Seeing her position now, she knew there was no retreat, no escape. Her impure blood sang at being so close to her target, so close to death and the beyond. She never felt more destroyed and yet more alive, coming so near and face to face with a mad and fallen god, armed with the knowledge that what was inside her was the key to ending everything.

_Hah hah! No more running for our lives. No more Darkspawn. Egggh... no more camping in the middle of nowhere... _

Her smile grew, the edges of her weapons moving to dig and slash superficial cuts over her forearms. Crimson life trickled and trailed, sliding along the gleam of metal and pooling beads at their tips, coating them with the very means necessary to seal its essence into her body. She hoped, deep down, that she had been paying enough attention to Riordan's words to pull off a victory.

Her eyes glowed, burned at that, white-blue luminescence smoking from the corners as she answered the Calling. She lifted her head, and shifted her position, adopting the stance Isabella had taught her in what seemed like many moons ago. Her main blade lifted to point upwards in a smooth and debonair salute, swiping it to the side with a flick of her wrist and sending a small spray of her blood on the ground to baptize the stone in wordless homage to the moment.

"Let's dance, you and I," she said under her breath.

Jaws opened, rows of large and jagged teeth reflecting dismal light off their points as the Archdemon's invitation deafened nearby ears. Elissa picked up her feet, her body rocketing forward to accept it.


	7. Chapter 5: Embracing Oblivion

**Chapter 5: Embracing Oblivion**

I bashed the doors open with all the frantic strength I had in me, my eyes bloodshot due to the smoke outside, and my heart finding a permanent place in the middle of my throat. If it was difficult to breathe, it was due to the vise of panic clamped around my chest, constricting my ribcage tightly through my armor at every second that passed in which I didn't see her. The moment my group and I managed to fight our way through the Palace District and in the outside areas of Fort Drakon, I had the distinct feeling that something was amiss. Elissa and her party should have been here by now, the Alienage was smaller than the Market District, finding the general and killing it should have been easy.

When I saw Riordan's broken body on the piles of debris and rubble outside, I knew.

Percival seemed to sense my agitation. He was always in front of me, hurling his massive bulk on incoming enemies and taking them out by the legs so Zevran, Leliana, Morrigan, or I could deal the killing blow. Mabari war hounds, despite all my harping that they couldn't be as smart as people say they were, seemed clever enough at the very least to sense that their masters were in danger. It almost looked as if the dog and I were trying to race each other to get to the finish line as we ran as fast as we could up the winding steps of the fortress. I had been here before, when Elissa chose to surrender as opposed to stomping her way past Loghain's lieutenant. I thought it had been stupid at first, there was no way they could've been a match for us, not after all we've been through. Instead, my redheaded troublemaker decided to get captured, break out, and sneak through by pretending to be guards on patrol. I thought, like in most instances in where she pulled a scheme out of nowhere without giving me all the details or her thought process behind it, that she was insane and the duplicity may very well have been for nothing.

However, the path of least resistance worked in our favor during the Landsmeet. She must have known it would play out that way. She never did anything complicated without a reason. She never did anything risky unless it was important.

The thought was precisely the reason why my group was doing its best to catch up. Riordan was dead. I didn't tell her about Morrigan. At this point I knew her well enough to know precisely what she was thinking, and there was no way I was going to let her face the Archdemon alone.

I swore during every swing of my sword, and every swipe I made of my shield. I was crazed enough that the people with me probably thought I took some lessons from Oghren when no one was looking. When a group of Hurlocks and one Emissary decided to make the mistake of getting in my way in the third floor, I just charged through them, killing as many as I could the first time through and let Zev, Leliana, and Percy cut down who I didn't get. Morrigan did her part by ensuring she had a spell ready to hold multiple foes in place as blood spilled and heads rolled.

Myriads of corpses have been left behind, and I couldn't stop. The call of the dragon at the rooftop drew me further, and further upwards, its song inaudible to everyone else in my party but me. I was so close, I could practically smell its breath, taste the rusty tang of blood and venom that lingered around its presence like a fine mist. I was never a religious man, but I found myself praying in the back of my mind, in hopes that Elissa, Wynne, Sten, and Oghren were alright and holding their own until reinforcements got to them in the form of my manic, yelling hide.

Elissa...

_Damn it, I told you not to do anything insane!_

Reaching just the fourth floor felt like an eternity. At the sight of the chamber, with its groups of Darkspawn heading for the wide-open door at the very end, I nearly screamed in frustration. It was a handy thing, I suppose, to use it as fuel so I could kill everything and get to the top of the main watchtower. Power suddenly blew out from the side of me, sweeping through the room and flashing black mist before dissipating. Chaos only grew as the clustered Darkspawn turned on one another and started slaughtering and attacking their own numbers.

"Handy trick, that," I found myself saying over my shoulder as I dashed past the confused horde.

"A little something I learned while no one was looking," Morrigan replied in a casual tone. "Now hurry up."

The commanding roar of the Archdemon shook the top of the stairs leading to the roof. I forced myself to stop, to regain my balance before I toppled over in heavy armor and took out the rest of my party with me. It didn't sound promising, namely because if it had room to sound angry, it was still alive. I forced myself to move despite the building's shaking foundations, grabbing onto the edge of the doorway and shoving myself down the corridor that led to open air.

The stench of death was overwhelming. The first thing I saw were bodies, guards from Denerim mangled and crushed beyond recognition. I heard the mechanic sounds of ballistae churning, the whistle of large bolts burying itself in the Archdemon's flailing body. Rivers of crimson and black flowed seemingly from every direction. Sten looked burnt, but alive, manning the giant siege weapon. Oghren was slumped on another, I didn't know if he was alive or not.

"Alis...tair..."

"Wynne!" The mage was sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. "Morrigan, do something!" I expected a barb coming my way, but I certainly didn't care as I crouched by my battered comrade and helped her sit up. She didn't weigh much but she settled in my cradling arm heavily.

"Finish...she has to finish.." Wynne murmured deliriously.

I left her in Morrigan's care, my eyes sweeping over the decimated rooftop. A spot of brilliant scarlet grabbed my attention and I lurched myself on my feet.

"Elissa!"

I thought perhaps she didn't hear me, and despite our sizable distance, I knew that something was wrong. She was hunched over, her spine bowed forward. Rivulets of her own life blood ran down her arms as she gripped a sword in both hands, the point dragging over stone. I didn't recognize it as her blade, she must have pulled it from someone else. Her right arm, however, didn't look right. The angle didn't look natural, and yet she was still...

She was standing over the heaving, scaly body. She had managed to do it after all, only...

She turned to me, her eyes finding mine. She looked perplexed, confused at first, she looked so exhausted and by the way her body listed to the right, it appeared that she couldn't even stand up correctly. She must have realized I was no apparition, not some trick in her foggy mind, for her eyes widened and she gripped the sword even more determinedly, no matter what the damage she was doing to her arm when doing so.

"No," she said, steel in her tone, the sort of voice she took on that indicated she was entertaining no arguments. "Riordan couldn't do it, Alistair."

I heard the implication loud and clear, saying nothing for the time being as I looked at her, the glint of the blade and her half-broken form standing, still, despite its fatigue and wobbling. I knew very well the posture, the intent. She was determined to save me, to spare me... I didn't think I would have to see something like that, but now that I was, I couldn't help but feel my chest constrict even more. Reckless, crazy, stubborn woman. She picked this moment out of all the others to be a martyr? I felt a cramp in my chest at the thought of it, the lengths she was willing to go, how much she was willing to endure, just so I could...

Ignoring the expression on her face, I strode in that direction, putting on the most stubborn face I was capable of. She must have seen the shift in my expression given the surprise on her features, her determined grip on the hilt suddenly looking unsure. She didn't move, at least, until I was standing on her shadow, my hand reaching out to grasp the sword in her grip, curling one set of knuckles over her good ones.

"I know." My voice was soft, my head tilted so I could look down at her pain-filled eyes. "Not to be a smart-mouth or anything, since you know I'm particularly good at it, but it looks to me you're going to need a hand."

I felt her arm tighten under my grip. Uncertainty invaded her visage as she looked up at me, the tips of her front teeth digging into her lower lip. It faded, however, she lowered her head, and I heard her smirk more than I saw it.

"Let's do this, then," she said, for once willing to compromise a decision. "On three."

I slid my grip a little lower while she grasped the portion closest to the pommel. Both our feet dug into the stone floor to brace ourselves. She counted, each, short second had us moving in increments as both of our knuckles tightened over the weapon. Like every battle we've fought together since we've met, we moved as a pair. She led, I followed. She had her speed, and I had my strength. The both of us swung the blade down, the point driving down through hard bone, sinew, and tissue to find the heart of the beast. Our chorused battle cry rang across the rooftop.

Light exploded, searing my eyeballs as an indescribable force surged upwards. It rattled my bones, and jarred my teeth. I could do nothing but hang on, my other hand flailing forward to clutch at the sword embedded in the Archdemon. I could feel Elissa struggling next to me, to hang on just like I was. It felt like being punched, set on fire, and struck by lightning all at once, but I kept my grip and shifted my legs astride, to lock my heel into hers while the both of us were held and trapped by a ritual meant only for a solitary Warden. Perhaps it was foolhardy of us, brash and reckless, but I wasn't about to let her do this alone, especially when she couldn't even lift the sword, and taking this away from her after everything she's done didn't sit well with me either.

Something could go awry. Maybe the entire rooftop will explode, killing everyone. Or just the two of us could die. Maybe Morrigan's ritual wouldn't work, and nothing lay in store for us after all save for dark, fathomless oblivion.

A massive shockwave burst outward from the violet-and-black scales. As much as I tried, I found myself hurtling back, my armor clanging against stone and my bruised and aching body bouncing around inside. Spots of color blurred with white took over my vision as it spread, knocking everyone else down as it passed and as streams of light continued to shoot upwards. In my hazy delirium, while fire and lightning kept coursing through my body, the display was ethereally beautiful. It was hard to imagine something like it was produced by something so corrupted, so evil.

It lingered, for a while. The painful brightness slowly faded just as my eyes were getting used to it. My ears rang, and I rolled heavily on my side, groaning and shaking my head as I tried to get my bearings. I could see Elissa's blurry form in my periphery, marked by her red-gold hair, clutching at her crushed arm and rolling on her back. By the whispered epithets I could almost hear to the side of me, I knew she was alive. That she was going to be alright.

I was going to have to explain this to her later, and work through the consequences of that discussion. But this...

"It's over..." I heard Leliana whisper, incredulity and reverence in her tone. "By the Maker, it's done!"

Oghren snored his approval, still slumped on the ballista. Hearing the dwarf exhibit some sign of life filled me with an overwhelming sense of relief. As I rubbed my eyes and squinted at everyone else, it looked like everyone was alright. I could see Zevran struggling to get up, Morrigan's shield dissipating as she continued to see to Wynne. Even Sten, stoic, grumpy Sten, sagged bonelessly against his siege weapon at the realization that it was over.

I forced myself to get up, swaying just a bit. I shook my head in an effort to clear it. I reached out for my fellow Warden, helping her up from the ground. I was reluctant to aggravate her injuries any further, my hold on her delicate as she found her feet.

"We made it," I murmured. "Can you walk?"

"I think it's just my arm..." Elissa's voice pitched lowly between us. "I-- "

The invasion of a sudden, Darkspawn presence crashed into my rattled senses. Before I could move, I found myself getting shoved backwards, my eyes turning to the source of the disturbance. My vision hadn't adjusted fully, the burning feel was still in my lungs, but I knew something was there. The blur appeared two-legged, a humanoid figure lurking in the dark and having jumped out for one last skirmish, perhaps to fight its way through the roof so it could get back to the remains of the horde undoubtedly...

The giant, deadly crossbow that swung forward encompassed my vision, its barbed bolt pointed past my stumbling form.

I scarcely recognized roar of frantic warning to be my own. It sounded more like an animal's than a man's. I watched as blood sprayed over stone, the shaft punching through Elissa's body and bearing her down to the ground. Sten was already moving, his own bloodthirsty war cry echoing in the air and carried by the winds swirling over the tower. His large form hurdled over the ballista, rushing towards the Darkspawn that dared...

Oh, Maker. Oh, Maker, this wasn't happening.

The rush of crimson life flowing from her was alarming. I ignored all my aches and pains, scrambling towards her fallen form. My heart, my head, everything in me felt like it was about to explode as I reached for her. I could barely hear what I was saying, what I was yelling. My panicked eyes fell on Wynne's barely-conscious form, knowing she was my only hope. Knowing she wasn't in any shape to...

Elissa choked, her teeth stained red, her good hand clutching the protrusion on her body. She couldn't breathe, hitched, labored exhalations apparent as her lungs constricted and struggled to keep her alive. Even now, she fought to stay conscious, her glassy eyes lifting upwards to look at me as I hunched over her, my arms moving over to cradle her.

"Don't you dare," I whispered, fear twisting every part of me. My voice shook with fright, my grip on her tightening as if the very gesture could prevent her from slipping away. "Don't you _dare_."

The pain, the shock, the amount of blood she was losing, and yet through it all, she stared up at me with wonder, a sense of awe that not even a surprise attack could quell. Maker, but even now she could be so single-minded. "Alis...tair..." Her words were more of a gasp than a whisper, scarlet-stained fingers lifting to touch my grimy cheek. "What...did...you do...?"

My eyes burned. My fingernails dug into the bent and shattered remains of her armor.

"What I had to," I replied, choking back a sob. I leaned forward to bury my face into her hair, smelling rust, blood, and the faint trace of mint. "What I had to."

She didn't say anything else, after that.


	8. Chapter 6: The End is the Beginning

**Chapter 6: The End is the Beginning**

The funeral was well attended. Anora's speech was everything we all expected it to be, thoughtful and eloquent, the mark of every experienced statesman (or stateswoman) who was clearly used to addressing large crowds. Everyone I knew, who I met in my travels, had been there, to commemorate the sacrifices every Grey Warden had made to destroy the threat before it could even truly start. It was uplifting, in its own way, despite my heavy heart upon the realization that so many good souls have been lost before I could truly and genuinely get to know them all. It was the same regret I carried since Ostagar, and my current surroundings now only reminded me of it.

Still, I'm glad he would be returned to his true home. Anora wanted Riordan returned to Weisshaupt, to be buried there with his forebears, generations of Grey Wardens who gave their lives to fighting darkness. Part of me ached, as I didn't know this was an option. If we could have retrieved Duncan's body, the same honors would probably be given to him. Unfortunately, he was still back in Ostagar, somewhere, the Darkspawn still held a claim to the area despite the Archdemon's demise. The threat was far from over, but at least they wouldn't have a stable center, a single point of command. If there was anything this entire ordeal has taught me, it is the fact that unity was the essential factor in turning the tide of any large crisis.

With the speech concluded, everyone was given leave to pay Riordan their last respects, to come up to the dais and say what they needed to say for the ears of the dead alone. I didn't know him well, though he was present in my Joining. I watched the line file in, quiet whispers and prayers painting the air of solemnity these sorts of functions usually demanded from their attendees. There were many well-wishers, many who wanted to say goodbye, men, women, children who desired to become Grey Wardens whenever they grew older, inspired by courage and sacrifice, the knowledge that if it wasn't for this man, beating back the Blight would not have been possible. As much as it was true that Elissa and I struck the killing blow, we would have had a more difficult time of it if it wasn't for Riordan's efforts. We might not have even survived the encounter, if it wasn't for his willingness to use his sword and pay the necessary price.

I took my turn like the others. True to my usual eloquent self, I didn't really know what to say. I thanked him, of course. In the mere days I've known him, he managed to help us all a great deal. The man didn't waste any time, stalwart in fighting for his Order's cause. What do you say to someone who did his best to stand in for you when you, yourself, might have to face the end? I hope, with all my heart, that he wasn't laughing at me beyond the Fade as I fumbled for the right words.

I stepped off the dais, moving to the back of the crowd. The group was slowly dispersing, but I had a few things to attend to.

Elissa managed to survive her encounter with the Darkspawn, though it confined her to bedrest for a few weeks, something I was sure drove her crazy. Wynne, who Morrigan managed to rouse just in time to save her, stayed with her throughout her recovery. The rest of our party, despite assumptions to the contrary, did not go their separate ways.. not yet anyway, I was certain they would remain until our quirky commander got better. I visited her a few times while she was convalescing, whenever I could while I was busy doing my best to fend off official Order inquiries hailing from the Anderfels and Orlais. Our conversations then were light, amicable, but there was tension there that we both recognized, but refused to address. I knew she knew, could ascertain it every time she looked at me with her dark eyes and the unreadable expression within them. It wasn't like her not to say anything, not to express her opinion. She never held back, in that regard. Maker help me, but the one time in when I wanted her to talk, to just rip into me and let me have it, she doesn't. My life, since meeting her, has been one ironic twist after another.

I didn't press it. In the days during her recovery, I felt as if we slipped back in our old dynamic before... everything else. It felt more like the relationship that shaped us before and a bit after Ostagar. I was all for platonic camaraderie, but not with her. Not after everything. I couldn't take back my heart even if I tried.

I found her in no time. Even out of armor and dressed in more casual clothing, she still stood out from the rest. She wore fitted breeches today, and a short, long-sleeved tunic that belted around the waist. Her arm was still in a sling, which she grumbled and scratched at on occasion. Her predominantly scarlet hair gleamed its hints of summer gold under the light. These days, the sun over our heads only seemed to shine brighter and brighter the further we moved past that pivotal moment a few days ago.

She sensed me approach, her eyes falling on me. Her smile was faint, but sincere, brows lifting upwards in inquiry. "Sounds like Riordan's not done traveling," she said, in lieu of a greeting. The quip may seem irreverent, this was a funeral after all, but her usual refusal to acknowledge sadness in public was relatively promising. It told me she was quickly returning to her usual self despite her lack of mobility.

"It's not a bad way to spend eternity," I replied, a lopsided grin slanting the angle of my mouth. "Being a perpetual tourist."

She chuckled, at that, rolling her head backwards as she sighed. "I hate funerals," she confessed. "I know it's a way to give loved ones some concrete sense of closure but..."

"I know." She didn't have to explain.

I sighed, in turn, my hand coming up to rake my fingers through my short-cropped hair. "I... we should talk." I took a page out of her book, to just come right out and say it. I met her gaze, and held it. I was amazed I didn't choose to open this up with a joke, opting instead to take the "fun" out of "funeral."

Maker, I'm so glad I didn't even try. She could have hit me for that.

She knew instantly what I was trying to say. Elissa for all her bluster was an exceedingly perceptive creature. She tilted her head up so she could gauge my expression, and in that, I could clearly see what was in hers. Uncertainty wreathed her fine-boned face, her lips pressing together softly. Regardless as to how she might have felt about the words I just said, she still managed to look me in the eye.

"We should," she agreed.

I didn't know what to make of her tone, or what to feel about it. I felt hope and dread settle like rocks in the pit of my stomach all at once. I offered my arm in wordless invitation to escort her out, I might not have finished my training as a templar, but I was raised a gentleman, after all. And, despite her blatant eschewing of the titles she was born into, Elissa was still a lady, a teryn's daughter. I wondered, at that, whether Anora would insist that she take her place as Teyrna of Highever after her official coronation in a few days' time.

Before Elissa could take my arm, her gaze slid past me. I turned to see what she was looking at, and blinked when I espied a gleaming, golden head approaching the two of us. I lowered my arm, and bowed from the waist instead, Elissa following suit.

"Your Majesty." We greeted Anora simultaneously.

Anora inclined her head in acknowledgment to the both of us. "A solemn occasion, is it not? But it holds its own sense of joy as well," she said. "It must come as a relief to the both of you that we were able to retrieve Riordan's body."

"It was," Elissa confirmed. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

She lifted a hand, to stay my fellow Warden's words. "If anything, I should be thanking you, Warden." Her lips lifted at the corners in a small smile. "But I needn't extrapolate on the reasons why. You were there, after all. And you are still here." She inclined her head slightly. "Though I'll certainly make that clear during the coronation, and the celebrations that will come afterward, but if you would permit me, I would like to have a word with Alistair in private."

What?

Uh oh.

"Me?" You would think after everything I'd be able to keep myself from sounding like a bloody idiot, but I still manage to surprise myself. "I mean... of course, Your Majesty."

I cursed inwardly. I might have relinquished all my blood rights to the throne, for myself and my heirs (if it was even possible for me to have them), but this was Loghain's daughter. And with how she kept ignoring me, and the wonderfully inconsequential part that involved my sword cleaving her father in two, I couldn't help but feel more than just a little bit wary. To my credit, I managed to keep that off the tone of my voice. It held a note of surprise instead, and that had not been feigned either. I was genuinely astonished that she wanted to speak with me, in private.

Elissa was watching Anora carefully. I got the sense that their dealings have always been marginally friendly, but I could always be wrong. I wasn't dumb enough not to recognize that both she and Anora were adept players of the subtlety game, cleverness and charm wielded like weapons to press their objectives to the very end.

"I wouldn't dare keep him from you, then, Your Majesty," she replied, her dark eyes turning to me.

_Thanks a lot, sweetheart_. "I'll look for you after," I promised, flashing her a look. She wasn't going to get away from me that easily.

I offered my arm to Anora instead, who took it lightly. It didn't look like she was hesitant to touch me at the very least. All things considering, she was taking her proximity to me rather well. She gestured to the side, and I followed her direction. My footsteps took us back towards the royal palace.

She led me to the upper floors while my eyes took in the state of the palace. It felt like a lifetime ago since the Landsmeet, where all the nobles gathered around to determine whether I should take the throne, or Anora. It was all behind me, now, the fact that I wouldn't have the responsibilities of ruling was more a relief to me than anything else. I knew Arl Eamon wanted me to take the throne, and some part of me would have accepted that if it meant it would be for the good of the nation. But Ferelden already had a queen, and a capable one at that. As far as I could tell, it was because of her that our relationship with foreign countries had been the best in a few centuries, and I heard that she already exacted new economic measures so we would have the money to rebuild what was left of Denerim after the Darkspawn onslaught. I am not and never have been a political man, like my half-brother before me, battle was where I was suited the best. I suppose I could have married Anora if Eamon was serious about putting someone with King Maric's blood on the throne, but seriously, she was my ibrother's widow/i. There had to be something inherently wrong with that, and in my case, the thought of it was rather unsavory.

That, and I thought there was an inherent cruelty in forcing a woman to marry her father's executioner, especially one who adored him like Anora did. While she was many things, I couldn't do that to her, or anyone.

Anora took me to her personal sitting room, nodding to the servants who opened the door for her and slipped her arm away from mine. She gestured at me, wordlessly, to head inside before her, and so I did. I took a step into the room, sweeping my eyes over the tastefully decorated space. It was quiet here, tranquil, the light scent of spring flowers lacing the air within. The room was done up in soft, feminine colors, in what functioned as the queen's private room whenever she wanted to get away from... well, everyone else. I know I would want a place like that, if I was in her position.

There was a suit of armor stand in the middle of the room, the sun streaming from the outside reflecting off its golden plates. It was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, and one that was especially familiar. I furrowed my brows in confusion, taking in the engraved breastplate, the arches of the shoulderguards. It had all the trademarks, all the signature trappings of House Theirin.

Anora waited until the double-doors were closed behind us. "It was Cailan's," she said, moving to take a seat on one of the couches in the room. "All the men of my late husband's family have worn a similar design over the decades."

I approached the set carefully, though I was hesitant to touch it. I looked over at her, confused, wondering what she was getting at. "I remember him wearing this in Ostagar," I remarked, finally. "I thought... I got the impression you couldn't retrieve his body, Your Majesty."

"We couldn't," Anora confirmed. "This was a spare set. He had it made, before the campaign in Ostagar." She sighed, ruefulness and exasperation in that single exhale. "He expected his armor to be dented and damaged whenever he returned from that battle, and he wanted to have an identical one ready for a victory procession."

She shifted on her seat, strangely hesitant. Perpetually poised and cool, this was the first time I had ever seen her look so uncertain. "You are his brother," she continued, finally. "The last of the great King Maric's noble line. Despite my misgivings... despite our history, I want you to have it, and perhaps wear it for the coronation. It is yours, by right. You might have forfeited the place you were born into, but it doesn't change the fact that this is part of who you are."

I was certain my astonishment was apparent, with my jaw hanging open as I stared at her. Anora was a gracious queen, but she never struck me as the sort to be so forgiving when it came to her enemies. This was particularly generous, and I was speechless. Perhaps this single moment of amicability between us won't last, especially once the days move us further away from all that we have endured, but the fact that it was happening was still... I had no words for it. She might not accept my suitability to rule, and quite frankly, I wouldn't accept my qualifications for that either, but she was clearly willing to at the very least acknowledge that I was, by blood, a Theirin.

My heritage defined me my entire life. It affected most of my days growing up, forced my destiny in unexpected paths. For the longest time I resented it, I never wanted it after all. I was in the middle for most of it, neither common nor nobility, and unaccepted by either.

And now...

"I...I'm not quite sure what to say," I stuttered, accepting the proverbial olive branch with my usual, astounding eloquence. "This... is..." I cleared my throat. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Well, don't thank me yet," Anora replied after a pause, the slightest of smiles manifesting at the corners of her mouth. "We'll see how well my armorers adjust it to fit you."

I left her parlor feeling somewhat lightheaded, with shock and awe both. But with the strange sensation came a newfound sense of self-awareness, suddenly marveling over what had been accomplished through this trying and cumbersome year. A Blight was ended before the rest of the world was even aware of it. Every single one of my traveling companions survived the ordeal. The woman I love, no matter how angry she'll be in a few moments, was alive and probably giving the castle healers a headache at present because of her arm. The queen and I managed, against all odds and in what seemed to me a miraculous turn of events, to put some of our differences aside and move forward. The future, from where I was standing, looked especially bright and promising.

I only had one other thing to resolve.

I found her at the palace's reading room, playing a game of chess with herself. I paused at the doorway to observe her quietly, for a moment. The light from the outside flared against the vibrant color of her hair, her shadow hunched over the chair as she scrutinized the monochromatic squares in front of her. Her brows were drawn, focused and intent. In many ways, it was an appropriate picture as to how she was through our journey as she fought a war in different angles. Against herself, especially, she whose opportunistic side waged constant battle with her nobler one.

"Are you winning?" I asked, casually.

Elissa looked up, and smiled slightly. She leaned away from the board, moving to stand up and greet me properly.

"I'm never sure when it comes to battling myself," she replied truthfully.

I took a few more steps inside the room, closing the door behind me.


	9. Chapter 7: The Purest Part of Her

**Chapter 7: The Purest Part of Her**

Dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I ventured further into the reading room, bolting the door behind me. It wasn't as if I was afraid that she would try to escape, she was good at that if her breakout from Fort Drakon didn't indicate it. Rather, what we were about to say to one another was particularly private, and sensitive, and I didn't want anymore interruptions. This had been left to sit unaddressed for far too long already, I had preferred to talk about this with her before we even faced the Archdemon, but like most of my best laid plans, it didn't come to pass the way I felt like it should. The timing never felt right, though I don't suppose there was really a "right" time to talk about something like this, to look into your beloved's eyes and admit that you spent the night with another woman. No matter what the reasons were, no matter how noble, how well-meaning, it would never be easy to hear. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't even know how to react.

That was the part that scared me the most.

But the truth was the truth. I wasn't going to sugarcoat it.

Elissa slid her good hand in her pocket when I approached, turning to face me. She met my eyes, despite the uncertainty there. Her lips parted to speak. "Alistair..."

"No, wait." I lifted a hand. "Let me talk. Please." I swallowed the hard knot that suddenly formed at the back of my throat. "I'm afraid that if I don't start talking now, this will never get out and it has to. So... just listen. Alright?"

She blinked at the request, heard the plea in my tone. Her lips pressed together, and she nodded her acquiescence.

I took a deep breath.

"You're...one of the smartest women I know," I began, feeling my palms sweat. I shoved them both in the pockets of my trousers. "So I don't...want to get into detail as to what happened. I know by now that you've already puzzled out what I did, how the two of us survived. The truth is, that night... you worried me so much I had to see her, and when I found out what it was, I..."

My eyes drifted to the ground, examining the tops of her boots. I forced my head up, dragging my gaze back to hers, holding it there.

"I should've told you, right away, but the timing was so bad all around I had to wait, and when you had to recover after the battle, I..." My teeth dug on my lower lip. "I couldn't just let it lie, Elissa. How could I? I know you, once Morrigan made it clear to me what had to be done, what she was offering, remembering the look on your face when you tried to bring it up but didn't...I knew you already decided then. I know I could be a right idiot most of the time, but I wasn't about to let you do what you resolved to do without doing something about it. It was my decision to make, and if the consequences end up being dire in the future, I ought to be the one to pay for it. I never feared dying. If I had to give my own life to save you, to save all of you, I would've done it in a heartbeat. But I knew...I knew that you wouldn't let me, that you would never let me, and you're too clever for me to outplan, to outmaneuver. I didn't want to... I couldn't risk it."

She averted her gaze away from mine, at that. I took several steps closer, until my shadow fell across her face.

"So I...did it. I slept with her." The words felt sour on my tongue. I forced them out of me with all the bullish tenacity I had in me. "I didn't enjoy it, though she did her best to make it easy on me. I felt sick with the guilt afterwards, considering I went ahead with it anyway and didn't tell you beforehand. I know it must be difficult, to hear from someone...you care about that he's been unfaithful, that I bedded another woman while you slept just down the hall. But you have to believe me that I only thought of you. That all I wanted to do was to save you, and protect you... to be, for once, just once, your knight in shining armor no matter how cliched or corny or stupid it sounds."

My mouth pressed determinedly together, watching her profile as I continued on. That was the good thing about talking, I suppose. Once the stone started rolling downhill, it was impossible to stop it. "If I hurt you," I said, my voice quiet. "I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. But I'm not sorry for my reasons. I'm not sorry to see you standing before me, not sorry that I'm still here myself, talking to you and trying my absolute best to let you know how much I care for you regardless of the mistakes I've made."

I heard her swallow, shift on her feet. I wanted her to look at me so badly, I ached. But I didn't want to force her to do anything, especially not now, not when I was throwing my body on the proverbial sword being honest with her in the most painful and grueling ways. I told her once that I would never hurt her, after she told me that she wouldn't do that herself. It was a promise I shattered to pieces in favor of preserving something as rare as her, and if the cost I had to pay was to see her walk away from me forever, so be it. I would never be the same, I haven't been the same since I met her, but it was worth it. Her life was worth whatever expense I had to shoulder.

"...is it my turn?" she said, finally turning her head to look me in the eyes again.

I nodded, my fingers clutching at the lining of my pockets.

Elissa inhaled softly, and she fell quiet for a moment before continuing. "When I came to see you that day," she started. "I had a plan. But when I looked at you, I couldn't go through with it." Her smile, once it lifted on her mouth, was equal parts rueful and sheepish. "Not... well, the idea of you sleeping with Morrigan had something to do with it, but it was small in comparison to the bigger issue. If that was all that amounted to it, I could handle it, Alistair. I could handle... the thought of you being with another woman if it meant saving us both. I wouldn't like it, mind, but I would've been able to cope with it. I'm not suicidal. I'm not some great heroic martyr eager to rush headlong in a glorious death for the good of everything and all that. I don't exactly relish the thought of dying before my time, not when I haven't seen as much of the world as I would've liked."

I was confused. Maker, but she had me running around in circles sometimes. "But you were ready to..." I said, furrowing my brows.

"Yes, I was," Elissa admitted. "I know it sounds puzzling, when I'm telling you I wasn't keen on dying but I was going to sacrifice myself anyway. If it was just all about you sleeping with Morrigan, I would've asked flat out. But it wasn't just about that, Alistair. It wasn't."

She rocked back on her heels, her hand lifting to rub the back of her neck. "You... are so good,"' she said softly. "You confronted me about Connor Guerrin, you made me compensate Kaitlyn for the Green Blade when we found it. To you, there are some things that just weren't done, no matter how dire the circumstances are, how desperate things are; your stance on Maleficarum, your distrust for assassins and criminal elements... everything. I thought...that if I asked you to lay with Morrigan and give her a child just to spare my life, it wouldn't just be asking you to be unfaithful to me, it wouldn't just be asking you to have sex with someone you didn't like, bring a child in this world that you didn't want. I would have been asking you to go against your beliefs by participating in that kind of magic, your sense of what's right and good and honorable and noble and I couldn't stand the thought of it."

Her expression gentled, affection etched plainly on her visage. "I would've been asking you to lay your principles on a sacrificial altar and bleed them dry," Elissa continued quietly. "This part of you that I love the most, the part of you that makes you so different and so unique. How could I ask you to corrupt...to compromise the very thing that makes you so special just for the sake of me? That isn't love. That isn't..."

I stared at her mutely for what felt like an eternity, epiphany punching me in the gut and taking a brick to my face. Everything she said, to me, had been unexpected. I don't know how it happened, how we ended up together considering how disparately we valued different things, with me being an almost-templar, trained and educated by the Chantry while the way she approached things bordered occasionally on criminal. It was easy to assume that she would hate me for sleeping with another woman, despise me for infidelity, for not seeking her permission or at the very least let her know about it before doing the deed. After all, her entire family had been betrayed by one who purported to be a friend, I had the distinct impression that anyone who even so much as deigned to do so would suffer the consequences.

But this...

In the most intimate moments, no matter how many we've had, she still found a way to blindside me. Maker, but she could be a brigand. She could be a liar, a cheater, a dirty backstabbing double-crosser who would smile one moment and make off with everything you had, including your dignity if you weren't careful, at the next. Elissa Cousland was dreadfully flawed, she could be egregiously opportunistic and downright selfish, where the end justified the means and sometimes, she wouldn't care how she got there so long as she won and took her people with her to the finish line. In many ways, she was one of the unlikeliest heroes, if she could even accept the title, in the history of Ferelden.

But when she cared, she put her back into it. When she found you deserving enough of her loyalty, her regard, her respect, she threw herself against insurmountable odds, fought until there was nothing left of her, for you.

It was mindblowing, heartbreaking, and maddening all at once to realize that the purest part of her was her love for me. So much so that she was willing to die to preserve my conscience, the best parts of my soul, that integral part of me that didn't usually make agreements with darkness. Parts of me which I did sacrifice, did let go of if not for that one night only, because...

My heart pounded rapidly in my chest. My hands moved forward, slipping over her cheeks and cupping them. My thumbs traced the seam of her lips and I nearly crumpled then and there when she didn't pull away. I dipped my head, my forehead resting against hers, my eyes barely open but reluctant to tear them away from her own.

"You once told me," I murmured. "That when you love someone this much, your heart isn't your own anymore. That a body dies without it. It doesn't do me proud, to do what I did, for all the reasons you just described, and even more now that I know it's the part of me that you love the most, but..."

I closed my eyes. "My mother died when I was young," I said softly. "I was abandoned in the Chantry at the behest of an arlessa. My mentor, my rescuer, and my half-brother perished in Ostagar. My own sister rejected me. The Order here in Ferelden is all but extinct. In light of all that, when it was my turn to decide... you have to understand that you aren't just everything to me. You're the ionly/i thing."

I sensed her smile more than I saw it. Her good hand slipped out of her pocket, to wrap her arm around me.

"How many days have you been rehearsing that?" she murmured, her breath feathering my face.

I grinned, at that. "What, is it so hard to believe I icould/i pull a decent line in the heat of the moment?" I wondered, all hurt and innocence. "....alright, maybe a few. I'm not exactly the most capable confessor unless I think about what I'm going to say beforehand."

She laughed helplessly, easing her head away from my hands so she could drop her forehead on my shoulder. "You're impossible," she groaned.

"And yet you find me charming, handsome, and dare I say it, absolutely adorable," I quipped. "So the joke's on you. Don't blame me for _your _foray into insanity."

I drew her closer, my hands slipping down her hips and resting there. I was mindful of her injury, I didn't want to crush her arm any further. My baser urges shook at me impatiently from within, considering I've not been with her for weeks, the longest I've ever gone without... succumbing. But now that the Blight was over and none of us was charging headlong into danger, death, and destruction any time soon, I suppose I could wait a few more days.

I nuzzled the underside of her earlobe with my lips. "Where do you intend to go after the ceremony?" My voice was somewhat muffled, half of me clearly distracted.

"Mm...?" At least I wasn't the only one. "I thought we could do something about this 'Order is nearly extinct in Ferelden' business. Sound good?"

My mouth found hers, in lieu of a vocal reply.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Alistair," Elissa groaned, feverishly yet half-exasperatedly in my ear. "We're going to be late."

Truthfully I didn't expect time to run away from us altogether. I was in my room, pondering the golden suit of armor that Queen Anora wanted me to wear for today (and just how to start putting it on) when she broke into my room, her hair tousled and unbound, in a flurry of champagne and verdant silk, fretting over how it had been forever since she wore a dress and why, oh Maker why, didn't she decide to wear trousers. I was still relatively new, mind, being in a romantic relationship, considering we really only started when half our journey was over, so I had absolutely no idea that a man had to endure feminine rants about wardrobe choices until today. Needless to say, my poor male mind wasn't really focused on what she was saying but rather the fact that Elissa Cousland, in all of her spirited, energetic self, was wearing a laced-up bodice and a scooped neckline, stomping around my room while trying to decide whether she should forget the look altogether and wear her armor instead.

I think I made my protests in that regard loud and clear.

I managed to corner her against the edge of the vanity, my free hand entangled in the laces that kept her bodice closed in the front. I managed to loosen it enough that her right sleeve had slipped off her shoulder entirely, my thumb making a move to hook into the fabric and drag it down further to expose the softness of one breast. Her knees were on either sides of me, and with her injury having recently healed, I had no compunctions whatsoever in pressing her up against the opposite wall, with her palm braced flat against the side of the mirror and her head tilted backwards to bare her throat for my hungry mouth.

I maintain that this was totally and absolutely her fault.

Her hips ground insistently against mine, underneath all the fabric bunched around the wooden surface. It was nearly enough to have my eyes roll at the back of my head, my breathing hitched as I bit the side of her neck gently. "If you like," I rumbled, somehow, through my foggy senses and my busy hands. "I can..." The lower half of my body rolled forward, positioning myself where her movements would do the most good, and nearly coming undone before we could truly start. "...stop and help put you back together."

"I'll kill you."

I swallowed a laugh, burying my face into the scarlet waves of her hair and breathing deep.

I managed to find my way to the main hall after, where preparations for the coronation were underway. In another show of surprising good faith by Anora, she asked me to be present on the dais with her when she gave her speech to thank the armies and Elissa for her role in stopping the Blight. I was only happy to oblige her, though some part of me remained a little uneasy... I wasn't used to kindness from the upper echelons of Ferelden. To have the queen display a certain regard of consideration and even kindness towards me was a complete flip from how the way things used to be from my side of the line.

It heralded a new age, I decided, as I took my place once the horns signaled the start of the function. While I had my misgivings staying in court for this long, I have to admit that a part of me was looking forward to the party right after.

Anora's speech after the Reverend Mother blessed her and made her our country's official ruler was as expected; uplifting and gracious, marked with her trademarked well-spokenness. She called Elissa up on the steps, and in front of a sizable group of witnesses, gave her a boon of her choice. I couldn't help a certain glow of pride, watching her, and hearing her ask for a memorial for Duncan and the other Grey Wardens built to commemorate the Order's fall in Ostagar. He would've liked that, I think. I was suddenly reminded of my intentions to make my way eventually to Highever and plant his memorial. At the very least, I knew someone who knew her way around the area.

I found myself in the vicinity of Oghren and Zevran once the official bits were over, having wandered in that direction after speaking with Wynne, who I found out had been asked by our newly-made queen to stay in court and function as an advisor to the throne. I was overjoyed to hear that the two of them intended to stay, at least for a time.

"So what are your plans, my friend?" Zevran asked, his oh-so-scrutinizing eye falling upon several ladies milling about the hall. "I can't help but express my curiosity, you know. Here I thought you were bound to be made king. I wanted to see if you'd hire me."

I eyed him sidelong. "Are you serious? What makes you think I'd want to keep you around?"

"That hurts."

I grinned, and cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. "Elissa will be happy to know you're staying," I told the elf. "And so am I."

"I give up," Oghren grunted, after swallowing his dozenth pint of ale. "You'd think after all these months he'd be less dense about things than he usually is."

"What?" I furrowed my brows at the dwarf.

He leaned over, grinning so widely I saw every single tooth. "What the elf's really askin' is whether we'd be havin' a real party in the future."

"A real...party?"

Zevran glanced at Oghren. "I don't think he knows," he offered, in his typical unhelpful fashion.

"Know WHAT?" The looks they were giving me were making me nervous. I took this opportunity to shove my face into my tankard and take a few gulps. I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to need it.

"Weeeeeell." The dwarf patted my shoulder. "Ye don' worry 'bout that jus' yet, Chantry boy. Jus' tell us when yer gettin' married, and Zev and I'll handle th'rest."

I choked, ale spraying out of my mouth. "M...m...m..." I couldn't even say the word.

"You see," the Crow began, in the same tone he tried to lecture me with when he fancied himself a tutor on carnal relations. "When a man is about to get married, it is tradition for his other male friends to throw a very festive function that normally includes a lot of..."

Oh, Maker. I should've wandered over to Sten instead of these two!

I frantically searched for Elissa in the crowd, backing away from my two comrades. "Oh, look! I believe I'm being summoned." I'm never proud of lying. The darkness knows I feel bad just by omitting sensitive information, but these were extenuating circumstances. "Enjoy the party, I'll see you both later, cheerio!"

And before anyone says anything, I did not _run away_. It was a strategic retreat from a pair of lunatics that seem abyss-bent on getting me killed one way or another. I picked my way through the crowd, gravitating towards my fellow Warden as she spoke amicably with an older, dark-haired man I didn't recognize.

"Alistair!" Elissa's enthused greeting was almost enough to soothe my ruffled feathers. "Enjoying the party?" She reached out to take my arm, drawing me closer. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"You must be the last Theirin I keep hearing so much about," the dark-haired stranger interjected. "Court's been abuzz about you since I arrived. I am Fergus Cousland."

...the older brother. Fresh out of the conversation with Zevran and Oghren from earlier, I don't think anyone could fault me for sweating just a little bit under my armor. Oh, Maker. What had he heard? Am I a dead man? I am such a dead man. Go figure I'd survive the biggest crisis of our lifetimes only to get slaughtered by the older brother of the woman I'm...

And Elissa. Oh, my blissfully unaware redhead who was still talking even as I implode on the inside standing next to her. "Alistair's the-- "

"My intentions are completely and absolutely honorable!" I blurted out, my mouth running away from me before my brain could catch up to it. "I'm not a lech! Or a pervert! And I've never been convicted of a crime!"

Awkward silence fell between the three of us. Elissa stared at me as if I grew a second head.

Fergus burst out laughing, clapping my shoulder and grinning widely at his sister. "Oh, I see," he said, giving me the eye. "I'm going to have ifun/i with this one."

"Fergus!"

The other man laughed some more while I fumbled for something a little more coherent to say. Oh, yes, Alistair. And this was going so ismashingly/i. "Well, I better do my own rounds, before I return home. It...won't be the same without everyone there, but there's a lot of damage that needs fixing." Fergus turned to look at Elissa, his expression growing a little more serious. "I'll see you in Highever soon, I hope."

"You will," she reassured, smiling fondly.

The older Cousland left afterwards, leaving us alone for a brief moment. I cleared my throat, and planted my most innocent expression as I faced my companion.

"What did you do?" she asked, eyeing me warily.

"Nothing!" I protested, lifting both my hands up. "Look, Zev and Oghren said some things before I ventured over here and I panicked. You know how I am when I panic!"

She groaned, and that was the end of that.

The Queen managed to find us herself, before long, informing Elissa that there was a group of Ferelden citizens waiting outside of the revelry eager to take a look at their hero. And while my fellow Warden was somewhat reluctant to receive the honor she deserved, she acquiesced to Anora's direction with such a deferential air it was almost out of character. She, however, refused to take the credit alone, rounding us all up and despite protests from our end, she flashed us that pearly smile, gave us the little-girl-begging-for-candy face she perfected through the course of our travels. Despite our intentions to the contrary, we found ourselves doing what she wanted, anyway, as her very last order before we all went our separate ways.

The double doors opened, and for the last time in perhaps a while, Elissa led her group out in the steps of the palace. Ever the able performer, she swept her adoring public a graceful, flourishing bow that would make even Leliana proud, amidst rousing cheers and the loud, joyous hurrahs of a people collectively looking forward to the future. And as the rest of us; myself, Wynne, Sten, Oghren, Zevran, Leliana, and even Percival, at that moment we did what we have done for the last few months.

We flanked her, and followed her lead.

**FIN**

* * *

_Author's Final Notes:_

_1) The title - In hindsight, I should've called this The Final Twists, as opposed to just the singular, as the entire story was all about twists, starting from Alistair's decision to go to Morrigan on his own accord, to the Darkspawn marching through the night, to Anora's decision to give Alistair her dead husband's spare armor, to the real reasons why Elissa didn't end up asking Alistair to sleep with Morrigan. Then again, it could also describe my own spin on the ending! There's plenty._

_2) Alistair's Characterization - I tried to put him on a path of progression that seemed natural. He was bound to change through my stories - he was argumentative in "A Small Price to Pay", awkward in "For a Change", impulsive in "The Art of Losing", and more mature and self-aware in "The Final Twist" where he's forced to make some difficult decisions. I don't believe he would remain as untried and immature as he was in the beginning of the game, not with what was happening in the game world and the heavy responsibilities that he was facing. I also liked exploring what I perceived as his implied duality in the game... the words he says might be ludicrously hilarious, and let's face, that's one of the many reasons why he's so popular, but his thoughts might not necessarily reflect what goes on outside...after all, once you get him talking seriously, you can clearly see it especially when he tells the PC about his childhood under Arl Eamon's roof and how he regretted treating the man poorly and admits that he was being stupid and childish. The easiest way for me to illustrate that, I thought, was to put the story in his perspective... his flippant dialogue contrasts sharply with his more serious and internal narration._

_I think the hardest part of this story to write on his end was his choice to sleep with Morrigan. He's pretty hard up against apostates through the game, and if he even so much as suspects evil magic behind something, his response will always be a strong negative. The game gave me an "out" in that regard. The PC convinces him to do it, and because he loves her, he agrees to it relatively easily. If he did it himself, however, persuading him, I think, would be much harder because there's no "buffer" between himself and Morrigan. He ended up making the choice in this story because he realized that Morrigan's intentions for making the offer in the first place was not wholly selfish, and he found something in common with someone he despised. If all these elements were present in the canon game, I think this may very well have been what could have happened._

_3) Elissa Cousland - It's difficult to develop characters in a first person point of view because the reader has to contend with the character's biases towards each person in the story. I tried to balance that out a bit with Alistair's viewpoint on the PC herself... as lovestruck as he is, he isn't blind to Elissa's faults. I don't particularly subscribe to the "Love is Blind" thing and the way I pictured their relationship developing, that cliche would have been impossible. She is, first and foremost, his partner, a comrade-at-arms who watched his back while he watched hers. Her values are decidedly different from his, yet despite that I didn't want it to be the "love/hate" relationship thing either, or even a strictly "superior officer/follower" thing. They generally got along from the start, and rough patches in their relationship sprouted from his "good boy" values clashing with her shadier, more survivalist own. It's when they started understanding their reasons for acting the way they do that their connection deepens and transforms into something else entirely._

_I have a preference towards anti-heroes, I think in many ways it's the easiest path to stay away from the Mary Sue complex most writers (and readers) generally despise. I didn't even want to say that my version of Elissa Cousland is a rogue with a heart of gold either, as that's been done to death, too. She has a heart, certainly, but it isn't made out of gold ;), prone to weaknesses not found too often in your standard heroic templates (ie. scared of death, killing people who don't need to be killed but she did it anyway because they got in her way, etc. She even admits to Alistair that if it was just about sleeping with Morrigan, she would've asked him flat out to do it to spare his and her hides). Having your entire family betrayed and slaughtered, finding a place in the world only for that to get decimated and that taken away from you, too, there's no way I could've justified that either. In many ways, through her travels, she had to learn how to trust people again, and once they have, they'll find a terribly loyal and never-say-die creature by their sides. She is extremely flawed, with good characteristics that are more prevalent when the other character earns the right to see them (just like the game!), and who may or may not be unconsciously searching for her own redemption (and, of course, not really admit it) and quite possibly because of Alistair's place in her life. It's easy to see how he changes due to the PC's actions, but I find it hard to believe the PC won't be affected by him in turn._

_She also likes mechanical toys, and she's an avid chess player, or an equivalent game if chess doesn't exist in the Dragon Age universe. I envisioned her to be more of a tactician than a warrior and I tried to make that evident in the story. She also likes roses, which I don't think she would've figured out herself if Alistair hadn't given her one. ;)_

_4) Morrigan - Ah, Morrigan. So complex. I pretty much love all the NPCs in the game and I tried to capture Morrigan the best I could, including the very difficult scene between Alistair and herself. I wanted to make her reasons appear as ambiguous as possible since she's responsible for the big "twist" in the story. Most of it is from Alistair's viewpoint after all, so maybe he was trying to justify the act to himself by finding something in common with Morrigan, or maybe Morrigan really was attached to the PC to the point where she was actively trying to save her life (while getting something out of it). The illusion she cast on Alistair while performing the deed might have been an act of mercy to make it easier on him, or it could be just how she says... that she did it to ensure he could "get it up," so to speak. Who knows, with Morrigan, and that's precisely how I tried to write her._

_5) Anora - Yes, I know. She can be a double-crossing, backstabbing pain in the butt, but there are some paths you can play in the game where she plays it straight. I think, much like Elissa in my stories, she's very much a survivor, and quite a bit of a daddy's girl. I don't believe, however, that's all she is. I do believe that she cares a great deal about Ferelden, and wants to see it prosper. She just thinks she's the best one to be able to do that, and judging by the in-game blurbs, she probably is. I had her give Alistair Cailan's armor because no matter which ending you get where Alistair is still there and alive, he's wearing that same, gold armor. I thought it could be a bit of an extra in the story, where I used developer laziness (hah hah hah) to add more color and had the armor be the proverbial olive branch extended from Anora to the last member of House Theirin, and used it as a device to shift Alistair into being a little more receptive towards his heritage._

_6) The Epilogue - Her party members, in the end, are the closest things Elissa has to a family. They are the exceptions to the way she usually treats strangers and circumstances that cross her way. She would most certainly ask them to take a bow with her, especially since I set that up in a past story as well, when she told Alistair that they deserve to live through the end together. She does, however, get to be in front, of course. ;)_

_As for Zev and Oghren... well, let's face it, if they had to plan Alistair's bachelor party, it would be HILARIOUS._

_I think I've rambled on enough. Thank you for everyone who read this. 'Till next time!_


End file.
